No Match For Us
by Luv2Live Live2Luv
Summary: We all love reading about Lisi Harrison's infamous Pretty Committee, but do they really exist? Think about it: have you ever seen such well-groomed, wealthy, perfect middle-schoolers? So this is about a real group of girls who have flaws and weaknesses just like everyone else, yet they still rule Clear Creek Academy. What happens when the Pretty Committee attends CCA?
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you to everyone who submitted a character! I literally got 113 applications, so obviously I couldn't take everybody, but the ones I decided to use are...**

**Calliope Sophia Kaligaris submitted by AlphaWriter1  
Marie Jeanette submitted by BlindEv0lution  
Karolyn Dina Stern submitted by KatKat972  
Bethany Stewart submitted by TheyCallMeBetty  
Brynn Giovanna Presscott submitted by hawtjuicyaddict  
****Avalon Skylar Katye submitted by angierox1998  
Tessa McKenzie Brooks submitted by scribbled in stars  
Isabelle Grace Angelico submitted by k drama queen  
Lila Caren Kasper submitted by OC (Guest)****  
Brigit Natasha Callahan submitted by Anonymous (Guest)  
**

**as main characters.**

**My side characters are...**

**Lucy Kyra Candor submitted by SpongebobbersUnite  
Gabrielle Languille submitted by GraffityGirl99  
Nicolette Shay Marin submitted by forevergleek1299  
Victoria Richards submitted by Mikky-good-luck-charlie-lover  
Tallulah Dyani Powhatan submitted by Anonymous (Guest)  
Jasmine Cartlington submitted by Someone with pop (Guest)  
**

**Thank you again to everyone! I hope you continue reading even if your character wasn't picked. And if you submitted a character, chances are they will appear somewhere in the story. All boys who were submitted will be used! Thanks!**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**

**DISCLAIMER: Any songs that Bethany's band sings are not mine. They are real songs by real artists.**

* * *

"You're dating _him_?" Brigit Callahan asked skeptically, raising her eyebrows at her best friend, Tessa Brooks.

"He's a nice guy. Really," she protested meekly, pushing a pin-straight strand of mouse-brown hair out of her face. "Look!" She held up her phone, which portrayed a picture of a tall guy with blonde hair and green eyes. He was smiling slightly.

"Being hot doesn't make him nice," Brigit contradicted, shrugging one shoulder. "Whatevs. You'll find out."

"You're dating _Jake Simmons_?" Callie Kaligaris demanded, shoving past Brigit to peek at the screen. "Omigod, he's such a player."

"That's what _I_ said!" agreed Brigit. "She doesn't believe me."

"She will."

* * *

Marie Jeanette knew exactly how to find loopholes in laws .She'd been doing it since she was 12. She'd hang out outside the local 7/11, always pretending she was doing something, going somewhere. When she saw an older boy who looked tough, or possibly a little high, she'd approach him and hand him $10. Three for a pack of cigarettes. Seven for getting the job done. He'd come back, hand them to her, and she'd make her getaway. Easy.

The other kids in school knew not to approach her. They were familiar with her habits of drinking and smoking, and not one had ever dared to strike up a conversation, to find out that underneath the leather jacket, ripped jeans, purple hair, and invincible facade there was a girl with troubles just like everyone else. So she suffered alone, wishing desperately that she could make a friend.

In other words, the only reason she was so high up on the Clear Creek food chain was that no one wanted to go near her.

* * *

"We're singing Radiohead at the top of our lungs, with the boom box blaring as we're falling in love! I got a bottle of whatever, but it's getting us drunk, singing here's to never growing up!"

"Bethany!" her boyfriend of six months, Andy, hollered. "You're doing it wrong!"

"Whaddya mean, I'm doing it _wrong_? I'm the singer. I'll do it whatever way I want to, thank _you_ very much!" She tossed her short, dark hair over her shoulder with a practiced swish, the same one she used when someone was driving her crazy, which was what Andy was doing. "Excuse me, who wrote this?" She glanced around Andy's garage for an answer.

"I did." A boy with hair so gold that it glinted even in the dark light of evening raised his hand.

Bethany shot a death glare at Andy. "Let's see if _Hayden _thinks I'm doing it wrong."

"It's fine," he murmured.

Andy rolled his eyes. "From the top! Five, four, three, two..." The boy on the drums began pounding a light beat, and Bethany prepared to come in.

"We're singing Radiohead at the top of our lungs, with the boom box blaring as we're falling in love! I got a bottle of whatever, but it's getting us drunk, singing here's to never growing up! Call up all our friends; go hard this weekend, for no damn reason. I don't think we'll ever change. Meet you at the spot, half past ten-o-clock. We don't ever stop, and we're never gonna change."

"Yes!" Their fight forgotten, Andy rushed over and engulfed his girlfriend in a giant bear hug. "That was it!"

* * *

"Karolyn Stern!" her mother shouted, snatching the Samsung Flight out of the girl's hand. "You're supposed to be studying."

"Yeah, _Karolyn_," echoed her older sister.

"Shut up, suck-up," she muttered, giving Eleanor the evil eye.

"Don't you want to get into Yale?" she asked innocently, her question floating like an innocent bubble toward Karolyn.

She popped it. "No." It was the first time she'd admitted it to her family. The only person she told her secrets to was Brynn Presscott, who was, besides being her best friend, one of the most trustworthy girls she knew.

"What?" Her mother's eyes widened and she turned even paler than Karolyn, looking as though she might faint. "It's-it's our _legacy_. Your whole family has gone to Yale, Karolyn."

"I want to go to Emerson," she announced. "I want to act."

"What's this I hear about Yale?" her father asked, bouncing into the room. He was a round, jolly man with a bushy mustache and a British accent.

"Nothing." Karolyn looked down, ashamed.

"She doesn't want to go," Mrs. Stern explained.

"Of course she does. She's just a little overloaded. Right, sweetheart?"

"Right," she agreed. Even though he wasn't right at all.

Now who's the suck-up?

* * *

Lila Kasper reached for a towel. Although she'd never say so, doing chores was one of her favorite times of day. She could just relax into her music, sing along to the latest hits, and take a break from the world as she dried dishes or folded laundry or made her bed.

When she was finally done, she picked up her iPhone and checked on her Instagram. Her bio made her smile. **Lila's the name, friends are the game... Anyway, if you want a laugh, you know what to do!** She scrolled through her Home tab, which portrayed pictures of a few girls who she got along with but wouldn't call friends: Izzy Angelico, Ava Katye, Brynn Presscott, LuLu Candor, Gabi Languille, Vicky Richards, and Tally, who had some Native American last name that she couldn't pronounce.

Humming to herself, she strolled into her room and collapsed on her bed. Although most of the girls at Clear Creek Academy considered her "cool," Lila rarely went out with friends, instead choosing to live in her own little world of dreaming and make-believing.

* * *

"They are so jealous," Isabelle Angelico giggled. She was sitting with a large group of girls: Avalon Katye, Brynn Presscott, Lucy Candor, Gabrielle Languille, Victoria Richards, and Tallulah Powhatan, not to mention about ten girls who were semi-popular.

"No kidding," Lucy remarked.

"Come on Izzy, LuLu." Brynn tilted her head at them, and a few tresses of honey-blonde hair fell into her latte, although she didn't notice. "Be nice."

Isabelle just laughed. "Whatevs." She was in a happy, carefree mood. Winter vacation had just ended, and she had ended up with stacks and stacks of Christmas presents. All the better to intimidate with. "Smile." She held up her brand-new iPhone.

Everyone leaned in and grinned. Isabelle snapped the photo, purposefully cropped out a few faces that she didn't want to be seen on the Internet with, and posted it. **At Starbucks w/ the besties! **she wrote as a caption.

"It's true," Gabrielle pointed out, returning to the original conversation. "They haven't stopped staring once."

The girls glanced discreetly to their right, where a horde of fellow freshmen sat snickering and gawking openly at them.

"We're not special," Brynn commented uncomfortably. "We're just friends. What are they even looking at?"

"Us," Isabelle preened.

"Bullshit." Avalon rolled her eyes, spooning up a bite of her vanilla ice cream.

Isabelle shook her head so her sheet of glossy, midnight-colored hair parted to show her plastic pink hoops that she'd gotten at Aeropostale. "We're like role models."

Avalon slid her baggy white Forever 21 sweatshirt off her shoulder so as to make herself seem slightly badass. "Look, guys." She kicked Brynn in the shin by mistake as she slid her brand-new Michael Kors flip-flops toward Isabelle. "They cost a fortune."

"You're so lucky. My mom won't let me buy them," she admitted. "Hey, did you hear we're getting new students?"

"What?" That sparked interest around the table.

"Yeah." Isabelle beamed, showing her straight white teeth. "Maysie Black, Alicia Rivers, Dylan Marvil, Kirstin Gregory, and Claire Lion. Or something like that."

"Did you say _Dylan Marvil_?" Gabrielle echoed. "Merri-Lee Marvil's daughter?"

"Yep. Won't that be cool? Having a real celebrity?" gushed Isabelle.

"Totally." For once, Brynn seemed to show real enthusiasm. "I can't wait."

* * *

"Clear Creek Academy. I can't believe it. Clear Creek Academy. A public school." Alicia said the words "public school" with the same kind of disdain she'd use when discussing roadkill.

"We can make new friends," Claire piped up. "Give it a try."

"We have to look guh-reat," Massie instructed.

"What for?" asked Dylan. "Once they find out who my mother is, they'll be falling all over themselves to be friends with us."

"It'll be easy," scowled Kristen. "They'll be happy to let us take over. They're all LBRs."

"It doesn't matter," Massie decreed. "Ratings!" She snapped her fingers. "Leesh!"

Alicia stepped up in a navy blue ruched short-sleeve v-neck rib-knit cardigan. On her neck hung a perfectly poitioned single-stone gold necklace. She'd paired the top with white Citizens of Humanity jeans and solid gold Jimmy Choo heels. Her Midnight Cami by Essie-manicured hand was holding a white Chanel clutch with gold logos.

"9.4.," was Massie's instant desicion. "It's awf-balance. Dyl?"

The Gamma was wearing a cream Juicy Couture sweatshirt with a multi-colored design on the back. On her legs were dark wash Sevens. White wrap Uggs adorned her feet. Her red waves cascaded down her back. A light touch of natural makeup airbrushed her face.

"9.6. Looks guh-reat, but a little cheap." She shrugged. "Don't worry; it's fine. Kris?"

Kristen flipped her dark blonde hair out of her face and jumped to her feet. She was clothed in a black-and-white floral-patterned pleated-chiffon top with lace trim and black True Religions. Her feet were squished into white hand-me-down Blahniks from Massie. Over her shoulder was a celery-green Dior bag to add a pop of color. It matched the headband that was pulling her long, straggly bangs back. A touch of Raspberry Sorbet lip gloss was the only makeup she needed.

"9.2. It's too much. Drop the bag. The hair stuff too." She did. Massie shoved a stack of black bangles at her. "Put on these. That's better." Satisfied, she turned to Claire.

She was expecting an atrocious combination of Hollister shoes and Kate Spade bags that were too big for her tiny frame, but instead Claire was sporting a classic-fit white cotton Charlotte Russe dress. It had an embroidered lace floral pattern on the bottom hem. Around the waist was a black-and-white polka-dotted belt with a bow on the side. Soft black ballet flats finished the outfit simply. She'd brushed her hair into gentle waves, and had dusted some light blush onto her cheeks.

9.7!" Massie exclaimed. "You look ah-mazing. Do me."

She struck a pose, and the girls turned to face her. The Alpha was in control, and it showed in her outfit of a lace cap-sleeved Prada dress that she'd cinched with a thin brown belt. Matching closed-toe pumps with sharp angles set off her tanned-even-though-it's-the-middle-of-winter skin. In her ears were red rose stud earrings that matched her Maybelline nail polish and lipstick.

"9.5.," proclaimed Alicia. "Too much makeup."

"Yeah," Dylan and Kristen agreed in unison.

"9.6.," Claire opposed.

Massie wiped some off, replacing it with a not-so-bright color. "Better?"

"Um-hmm."

"Okay, girlies, tomorrow is a big day. So go home, get your beauty sleep, and Isaac will be around to pick you guys up a little before eight." She consulted her first-day-at-new-school schedule. "Leesh, you're at 7:37. Dyl, 7:42, Kris, 7:50, and Kuh-laire, 7:54." She thought back to the days before Claire moved out of her guesthouse, when they'd hop in the Range Rover together and cruise around town to get everyone, then get to school early enough to prepare for the perfect entrance. "I think that's it. I'll tell you the rest tomorrow. Bye!"

Waving, they left the house. They were _so _going to take over Clear Creek Academy.


	2. Chapter 2

_Deep breaths_, Massie ordered herself as the Range Rover pulled up to Clear Creek. _If you can rule OCD, you can rule anything_. "Okay, girlies, listen up." Obediently, they turned toward her. "I'm in front, Leesh and Dyl on either side, just behind me, Kris, next to Leesh, Kuh-laire, next to Dyl. Act confident, stand tall, and don't turn to look at anyone. When we get out, we'll do last-second ratings."

Her plan went perfectly until they exited the car and discovered that at least 30 kids were already there, waiting outside for the glass doors to open.

"Um, Mass?" Dylan tapped her on the shoulder. "Why are they here so early?"

"I see them!" she hissed. "And I don't know. Just follow me." She strutted toward the doors and grandly threw two open, oblivious to the gawking students.

"Excuse me!" shouted an angry voice. Massie ignored it, sure no one was yelling at her, until someone grabbed her shoulder. "Excuse me, the building is off-limits until 9:05."

"What are _they_ doing here, then?" demanded Kristen, pointing at a group of girls who were undoubtedly LBRs, judging from the way they were staring at the Pretty Commitee unabashedly.

"They help out in the mornings."

Kristen's face lit up. "For extra-credit, you mean?"

"No." The lady shook her head. "Their parents have to drop them off early since they have a long commute to the city."

"They don't have a driver?" Alicia asked.

The lady laughed. "I doubt it. Are you new?"

They nodded. Massie stepped forward and introduced them. "Massie Block, Alpha of the Pretty Commitee. Alicia Rivera, Beta, Dylan Marvil, Gamma, Kristen Gregory, Delta, Kuh-laire Lyons, Epsilon."

"What a unique, name, Kuh-laire! How do you spell it?"

Massie and Dylan burst out laughing while Alicia snickered.

"Um, C-L-A-I-R-E. They just call me Kuh-laire, like a nickname," she explained, blushing like crazy.

"Oh, I understand." She smiled. "By the way, did I hear you have, um, _ranks_ in your little club?"

"It is _nawt_ a "little club."" Massie smirked as she put mocking air quotes.

"Let me clarify: everyone at Clear Creek Academy is equal." She gave them all once-overs, holding in an obvious smile. "There are no social statuses. We do not need anyone trying to "rule the school."" She applied her own air quotes.

"Fine," Massie agreed, turning away. When she had the group huddled around her, she hissed, "Shows what she knows."

* * *

"Is that _Tory Burch_? And _Gucci_?" Isabelle had the patented shocked popular girl look going on: eyebrows slightly raised, mouth in a perfect O, head tilted down. "Where do they think they're going?"

Callie cracked up, adjusting her purple Hollister top. "No clue."

Brigit came up behind them, her golden blonde waves slightly unkempt from pushing her way through the crowd. "Did you see what they're _wearing_?"

"We were just talking about that," Avalon told her. Her shoulders were shaking with laughter, and her face was buried in her hands. She didn't wear makeup, so she couldn't care less about ruining it. She looked up for a second, so her next statement would be obvious. "Prissy bitches."

Nicolette Marin grinned as she ran a brush through her layered brown hair one last time before tucking it into her Aeropostale shoulder bag.

As they stood there, a few more girls joined them while others separated. Soon, it was just Brynn and Isabelle.

Brynn still wasn't used to being popular. Just last year, she'd been that quiet girl on the side who had her own group of friends and an average share of fun. Now, she was on top, and she had to admit, it felt wierd. She looked at the brunette next to her. If anyone at Clear Creek was asked who ruled the school, the answer would be Isabelle Angelico. Everyone knew her and her crazy but familiar fashion sense, her sleek dark waves, even her favorite sarcastic comebacks. But she couldn't do it alone. There was always a flock of people surrounding her. The Queen's Court.

"So, anyway, who do you- Earth to Brynn!"

Guiltily, she glanced up and lightly gasped. She still had to adjust every time she was reminded that this was _Isabelle Angelico_. Brynn had never pictured herself as the kind of girl who would be friends with _Isabelle Angelico_. But really, she was a normal girl. Possibly a little prettier-and meaner-than most, but a normal girl.

* * *

After having to endure the added humiliation of being forced to go back outside and wait for ten minutes for the doors to open, the Pretty Commitee finally marched into school with the rest of the students.

They had pulled out their maps and schedules and were trying to decide which hallway to turn down when they realized that no one else was moving. Kristen and Claire made to turn around at the same time.

"Don't you dare!" Massie whisper-screamed. "Just keep doing what you're doing."

The loudspeaker crackled on. "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands. One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

The girls whipped around, faced the flag above the entrance, slapped their hands over their hearts, and recited the Pledge along with whoever was on the intercom. All except Alicia. At Octavian Country Day, the Pledge was optional, not mandatory. There were so many students that came from so many different countries to attend the exclusive school that at least a quarter of them probably weren't 100% loyal to America. So, if it was against your religion or culture, they weren't made to recite the Pledge. But at Clear Creek...

"Excuse me." It was the same lady as before, and she looked pissed. "Why didn't you say the Pledge?"

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you."

"Because I'm nawt American. I'm Spanish. I was born in Spain, like the rest of my family," Alicia explained.

"If you attend Clear Creek Academy, you say the Pledge. I don't want this to become an issue."

"Whatevs." Alicia waited until she was out of earshot. "Gawd, I'll just do the Spanish one next time."

* * *

By first period, the rumors had spread around the ninth grade like wildfire. There were five new girls, rich, bitchy, stuck-up new girls. They had already gotten into two fights with Mrs. Brown, the most feared hall monitor in history. They wore head-to-toe designer, and every student who had seen them pull up in the Range Rover agreed: they had a _driver_. One of them had a bright purple streak in her hair, which was so out (everyone was on to dyeing their tips), and another refused to say the Pledge. Two had even worn a dress to school: the one with the purple streak, and the little one. Who _were_ these people?

And if they had so much money, why didn't they go to the exclusive BOCD across county? Why invade their public school?

Why indeed?

"Hey, Tessy," Callie giggled as she sat down in the seat next to her friend. "Did you see them?"

"Who? Oh, the new girls?"

"Yeah."

"No, but I heard about them. Is it true?"

"Completely."

* * *

Their faces burning, the Pretty Commitee retreated, then ran into the nearest bathroom, which was thankfully unoccupied.

"Ehmagawd, that was _horrible_," moaned Dylan. Her redhead's blush was famous, and right now, it was acting up. Her face and neck were so hot you could probably fry bacon on her.

"Stay calm," Massie ordered. " And stay in here until you're sure of where you're going." She turned her map around, not entirely positive it was even facing the right way. "Anyone have homeroom Math?"

"Me!" Claire exclaimed.

"Yes!" They slammed hands. Then Claire leaned over Massie's map so they could figure out how to get there together.

Kristen was the first one to leave, Dylan next, then Massie and Claire, then Alicia.

They couldn't have been less ready to start their first day at Clear Creek Academy, but they had to. Right in the middle of the year, with everyone laughing at them and gossip flying, was not Massie's vision on how to start a new school. Nothing was working out on her terms, which she wasn't used to. Everything was supposed to be on Massie Block's terms.

* * *

Alicia hobbled in her heels toward her first class, Science. She found the room two minutes after the bell had rung, and she knew everyone would be staring at her. So she fixed her hair, took a deep breath, and flung the door open.

"You're late," the teacher informed her without looking up.

"I'm new," she told the woman hotly.

She looked up from her grade book. "Alicia Rivera?" she asked.

"That's me." She shot a death glare at two boys who were obviously checking out her boobs, and another one at three girls, one with long blonde waves, one with short brown hair and freckles, and another who almost looked Native American, who were openly gossiping about her. Normally, her evil stares would stop anyone in their tracks, but these kids clearly didn't get it, because they kept bothering her.

"Could you introduce yourself?"

"Sure." She put her books down on the teacher's desk and faced the class.

"Everyone's attention, please!" The woman clapped her hands.

"I'm Alicia Rivera, I'm from Spain, I'm an only child, and my four best friends are Massie Block, Dylan Marvil, Kristen Gregory, and Kuh-laire Lyons. I'm the Beta of the clique we are all part of, the Pretty Commitee." She noticed the girls laughing and deliberately pitched her voice a little louder. "We used to go to BOCD, Briarwood Octavian Country Day, but we had to transfer here."

"I'm sure you'll like it," the teacher interrupted. "And I am Miss Vincine."

"Nice to meet you." She picked up her things and looked around for an empty desk. The only one seemed to be right next to the three girls. Grudgingly, she sat down next to the LBRs and fought back a snort at the Fashion Dont's they were sporting. One was wearing jean shorts and a Hollister shirt, and another had on leggings, a hot pink tank, and a too-small, gray Juicy hoodie. On her feet were hot pink flip-flops. The last one had glittery skinny jeans with high-heeled cowboy boots and a huge Justin Bieber concert tee. They were still giggling.

"Every Monday, we play interactive games in my Science class. Today we're going to do something where we separate into groups of four and play ..."

The girls chimed in under their breath as she spoke. "Fifteen Facts." They rolled their eyes.

"Do we all know how to play?"

The class nodded as one and scooted their chairs close to the people they wanted to team up with. Alicia ended up with the girls.

"I'm Brynn Presscott," said the blonde one with a smile.

"LuLu Candor." Short hair and freckles.

"Tallulah Powhatan." Native American girl. "You can call me Tally."

"Alicia Rivera." Forcing a smile, she looked at LuLu and lied,"I like your sweatshirt."

"Thanks. My mom was like, 'If it costs more than $50, you're not getting it.' So thank God it was on sale for $45. You know." Her eyes roved down Alicia, from her obviously expensive cardigan to her Jimmy Choos. "Well, maybe you don't."

"LuLu!" Tally exclaimed, swatting her arm. "You don't talk about money like that!"

Brynn rolled her eyes. "_They _should be the blondes. Why don't we get to work?" She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and handed them to Alicia, who didn't bother to say that she had her own. "Just write down fifteen facts about yourself. When we're all done, we pass the papers in a circle. Then we write our initials next to anything that pertains to us too. Like, if you wrote I like to ski, and I liked to ski too, I'd initial it. And if I wrote my favorite color is green, and so is yours, then you'd initial it. Then when we find things we have in common, we talk about them. Make sense?"

"Yup." So she proceeded to write down hers.

_1. I was born in Spain._

_2. I am an only child._

_3. I am 14 years old. _

_4. My favorite designer is Ralph Lauren._

_5. I love to dance._

_6. I have four best friends. _

_7. I was an assistant on the Daily Grind._

_8. I want to be a model when I grow up. _

_9. My favorite movie is Safe Haven. _

_10. My favorite color is burgundy._

_11. My favorite food is fideuà._

_12. My birthday is June 8._

_13. I have an iPhone 4S. _

_14. My favorite perfume is Angel._

_15. I am the Beta of the Pretty Commitee._

It returned like this:

_1. I was born in Spain. _

_2. I am an only child. _t

_3. I am 14 years old. _B **L **t

_4. My favorite designer is Ralph Lauren. _

_5. I love to dance. _

_6. I have four best friends. _t

_7. I was an assistant on the Daily Grind._

_8. I want to be a model when I grow up. _

_9. My favorite movie is Safe Haven. _B **L**

_10. My favorite color is burgundy. _t

_11. My favorite food is fideuà._

_12. My birthday is June 8._

_13. I have an iPhone 4S. _B

_14. My favorite perfume is Angel._

_15. I am the Beta of the Pretty Commitee._

* * *

Dylan made it to English on time. The teacher wasn't there when she walked in, balancing her books precariously against her chest, as they weren't allowed to carry bags around school. It was a quote-unquote "safety hazard."

"Dylan!" she heard. She turned toward the voice. A girl with wavy blonde hair and kaleidoscope eyes was waving at her.

She smiled tightly and crossed to that side of the room, where she deposited her stuff on the desk next to the girl.

"Omigod, I can't _believe_ you're at our school," the girl exclaimed. "I'm Brigit Callahan."

"I think you know me, but Dylan Marvil," she greeted her.

She was pretty enough to have made the Pretty Commitee back at OCD, but too casual. She had on white leggings, a black tank, and a blue lace three-finger top over it. On her feet were black flats. "Nice to meet you." She grinned.

"You too."

* * *

Kristen was suffering through Social Studies. When she'd walked in, the classroom had looked warm and inviting, but she knew now that the teacher was too harsh even for her standards, and that the boys didn't stop talking, even when the teacher was. The only good part was a girl named Karoyln Stern, who she had been assigned to sit next to.

She'd discovered they were extremely similar. Both had parents that pushed them to do well in school so they could go to a good college. They both had blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin, and they both were struggling to make ends meet. By the time they'd finished swapping numbers, the teacher had started class, and Kristen had a little time to look around.

Then she noticed that the students surrounding them had been staring in awe for a little while. "Why do they keep looking at us?" she whispered.

Karolyn licked her lips. "They're not used to me making friends this quickly. I'm kinda shy," she fudged. The truth was, they weren't used to the popular crew just taking on new members. But there was no way to say that without sounding conceited.

Kristen yanked up her jeans and reached down to poke at a blister from the too-tight Manolos. As she did, her finger caught the edge of the shoe, and it flipped off her foot and skidded across the floor.

The teacher scooped it up. "Manolo Blahnik? Do we have a student called Manolo Blahnik?" Kristen didn't know whether he was being stupid on purpose or not, so she just raised her hand.

"That's mine."

He handed it back. "Here you go, Manolo."

The class, including Karolyn, laughed. Kristen's face burned.

* * *

Massie and Claire had chosen seats next to each other in the back row. Massie was in the right corner, and Claire was next to her. The three other girls in the rear were a blonde, a brunette, and an African-American girl, who wouldn't stop laughing.

"Come to order, class!" shouted the exasperated teacher. "I hear we have new students!" That shut everyone right up. Isabelle Angelico had been right, just like always. "What are your names?"

"Massie Block."

"Kuh, uh, Claire Lyons."

"Kuh-uh-Claire? Or just Claire?"

"Just Claire," she murmured, sinking down in her seat.

"I have assigned you partners to show you around. Callie, Tess, stand up." The blonde and the brunette.

"I'm Callie." She grinned. She had golden-blonde waves down to her waist and greenish-blue eyes with hues of rich gold.

"Tess." She spoke more quietly, but had the same exuberance as Callie. She had a dark tan and teal eyes that reminded Claire of Kristen.

"Ugh." Massie couldn't repress a groan as she flopped into the seat next to Callie.

"What?"

Even Massie Block wouldn't call someone she'd just met an LBR straight to their face, whether they were wearing Hollister or not. "Just, you know, new school, new teachers, stuff."

"Yeah, I get it. I moved from Texas when I was eight. Still got the accent."

Massie couldn't care less about the girl's background or her accent. "Cool."

Claire, on the other hand, took to her buddy immediately.

"Hey, Just Claire."

"Hi, Tess." She smiled.

The girl flipped open a pack of gum, stole a quick glance at the teacher, and popped a stick in her mouth. "We're not supposed to have it in school," she explained. "Want a piece?"

"Sure." She accepted it and blew a small bubble, grinning.

Just as the teacher had moved on to polynomial functions, the bell rang.

* * *

"Come on." Callie scooted her chair back and stood up. "What's your next?"

"My next wha- oh, um, hold on." She checked her schedule. "Science."

"Me too. It's this way."

Massie had to fight the urge to protect her face with her hands. At OCD, a path would clear for any member of the Pretty Commitee when they walked through the halls. Now, she was getting jostled just like everyone else. And it was not a pleasant experience. When they finally arrived at Room 832, Massie was pretty sure she had a giant black-and-blue spreading over her hipbone. When they arrived, Callie walked straight over to a girl with light brown skin and misty grey eyes. "That's Nicolette," she told Massie. "Call her Nicki and you die."

"Gotcha." She followed Callie, cringing as she heard the click-clack of her heels ring through the room.

"That the new girl?" Massie heard Nicolette ask.

"Yeah."

She walked over. "Hey, I'm Massie."

"Nicolette." She seemed strong and sturdy, and almost reminded her of Kristen. Maybe Nicolette played soccer too.

"Nice to meet you."

* * *

The second they left the room, Tess turned right and led her down a corridor. Almost no one was using it. "This is one of the back ways I like to use," she informed Claire. "It's faster."

"Oh."

"Hey, um, random question: you're the girl from Dial L For Loser, right?"

She nodded slowly. "That's me."

"I am, like, your biggest fan!"

"I hear that a lot. Are you sure you don't just want to meet Abby Boyd and Conner?"

"Well, maybe a little." She snickered.

Claire laughed. "At least you admit it."

* * *

The Pretty Commitee regrouped at lunch. Massie had figured they would all sit together and announce to the student body at large who they were. She led the girls over to the table she'd marked with her favorite Fendi messenger bag. But someone had dropped it on the floor, and it was covered with footprints. Not one person had bothered to pick it up. She scooped it into her arms and rocked it back and forth like a baby.

A boy with chocolate-brown hair and perfectly beige skin ran by her, knocking the satchel to the ground. "Oops, sorry." He stooped and handed it back to her. In that split second, she fell for him as she never had for Derrington.

"Thanks." She slung it over the back of her chair and glanced around the cafeteria. The first thing she realized was this was no OCD. There was a door on each side of a stage (apparently the room doubled as an auditorium) and then there were rows and rows of long tables with small chairs. A line for food snaked out one of the doors. And the noise level was unbelievable. She could set a cannon off and no one would hear it. She finger-combed her hair and got up. "Let's go, girlies; we have to eat." They exited through one of the doors and added on to the back of the line. The whole place smelled like rotten fish.

Massie closed her eyes and pictured OCD's clean halls, quiet children, and nice teachers, and found herself silently sobbing._What had she done? _

When they sat back down, she was bombarded by three more girls.

"Are you the new kids?" one asked.

They nodded.

"I'm Ava Katye."

"Beth Stewart."

"Lila Kasper."

"Were you talking to Hunter before?" Ava wanted to know.

"Who's Hunter?"

"The incredibly cute one," said Beth. "Dark hair, sorta shaggy, light tan, eyes like the ocean."

"Oh, yeah. I think that was him."

"Well, don't touch him," Lila ordered.

"Why nawt?"

"He's Brynn Presscott's."

"I met her!" Alicia exclaimed. "She likes that kid?"

"She _loves_ that kid. Don't go near him."

* * *

The Pretty Commitee watched the way they walked away, full of confidence, laughing out loud. They saw them fling their hair and only turn to talk to people who they seemed to know.

Hold on. Were they the _popular group_?

All those people who they'd talked to: Brynn, LuLu, Tally, Brigit, Karolyn, Callie, Tess, and those three: Ava, Beth, and Lila. Were they _popular_?


	3. Chapter 3

***CALLIE'S POV***

There isn't any word that describes Massie Block quite as well as bitch. I can't believe how rude she had been. And I can't speak for anyone else, but I don't want any of those new girls at Clear Creek. They can find something else to do, somewhere else to go.

The only good part about having them here is the laugh factor. They walk in like they're in some Paris fashion show, and the looks on their faces when we laugh them out is priceless.

And, honestly, I can't say I really feel bad.

* * *

***MASSIE'S POV***

I'm sorry, but who does that Callie girl think she is? She's running around in her Hollister top like she rules the world, and she needs to straighten her hair. Like, seriously.

And she _laughed_ at my dress. My limited-edition Prada Milano dress. All the girls back at OCD would have been dying of envy, and she _laughed_. She must have been jealous. That's all there is. She's jealous of me and the rest of the Pretty Committee, and so is everyone else at that lame public school they call Clear Creek Academy.

We're ready to rule. They'll see for themselves.

* * *

***MARIE'S POV***

I'm sprawled on my bed, smoking a cigarette with one hand and stroking my pet cat, Chardonnay, with the other. Yeah, I know everyone says smoking kills your lungs and everyone's lungs around you, but I haven't died yet, and neither has 17-year-old Chardonnay. So either they're giving me bullshit as usual, or we're some kind of miracle. I would guess the first one.

And speaking of bullshit, there's apparently a group of new girls at school. Prissy bitches, in Avalon's Katye's point of view, at least. I heard someone say one was wearing Prada, another, Charlotte Russe, and the rest were all dressed in designer too. Somehow, I don't think I'll believe that until I see it.

I mean, _Prada_. At a _public school? _Most of us, including myself, just throw on pants and a shirt. And they're walking around in _Prada_.

I'll ask around a little at school tomorrow. I've got a few reliable sources.

* * *

***KAROLYN'S POV***

They're being too hard on those new kids. Although the only one I had a conversation with was Kristen, I have to assume they're all just as nice as she is. And just because they dress in designer clothes, does that really mean we have to be mean to them? Most of the girls who are already discussing them haven't even met the new students. Doesn't that say something about them?

* * *

***BETHANY'S POV***

To everyone who says dancing isn't a sport, fuck you. Because if dancing isn't a sport, then singing isn't either. And singing is _definitely _a sport.

I'm panting as though I've just run a marathon, and Andy is still saying I've done it wrong. What the hell does he know about singing?

"It's supposed to be like this," he says, then screeches an off-key scale of notes with the pride of an American Idol winner.

"No it's not." I roll my eyes.

Then somebody stomps in. A Latina with raven hair and huge boobs. One of those new girls. "Could you tone it down, puh-lease?" she snaps. "I'm trying to have a conversation." She points across the street at a towering mansion, and then at the shiny new iPhone in her hand. She lifts it to her ear. "Sorry, Mass, they will nawt shut up."

With an evil grin, I wait until she's back inside her house, and then signal to Andy, who looks just as devious as I do. This is why I love him. He orders, "Down. That new song. The one we practiced a little last week."

I position myself in front of the mic and scream, "Baby are you down down down down down?" That's all it takes.

She comes running across the street, her boobs bouncing (she needs a better bra), and _yells_.

Tee hee.

* * *

***ALICIA'S POV***

It's 8:30 at night, and those idiots across the street are sitting there, pounding away at those drums like morons. Well, now they've stawped, thank Gawd, but ugh. I finish my conversation with Massie and text the others.

**HOLAGURRL: They have a garage band.  
****BIGREDHEAD: Who?  
HOLAGURRL: The kids across the street.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: OK?  
HOLAGURRL: It's 8:30 at night and they won't stawp playing! So I told them I'd call the cops. That got them to stawp.  
CLAIREBEAR: Good old Leesh.  
BIGREDHEAD: Same old Leesh.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: Just remember, we're nawt at OCD nemore.  
HOLAGURRL: What's that supposed 2 mean?  
CLAIREBEAR: She's right. No1 here knows us. Don't make a bad first impression. We have 2 try 2 fit in.  
BIGREDHEAD: We want 2 stand out, nawt fit in.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: But nawt in a bad way. We need to play by the rules b4 we start breaking them.  
CLAIREBEAR: Ah-greed.  
****HOLAGURRL: Fine. I'll give it a chance. One week, and then we're taking over. Right, Mass?  
MASSIEKUR: One week.**

* * *

***BRYNN'S POV***

My phone starts ringing as I'm in the middle of solving a two-step equation. I pick up my old iPhone 3G and press Accept. "Hello?"

"It's Beth," a voice on the other line says.

_Beth? _My brain runs through various possibilities. Oh, _that_ Beth. Bethany Stewart. We have a couple of mutual friends, but we don't really talk that much. I realize she's waiting for me to say something. "Oh, hey, Beth. What's up?"

"You know the new girls?" Her voice goes up a notch. It sounds like there's some juicy gossip in store.

"Yeah."

"You know that huge mansion that those old people, the Astors, just moved out of?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, it's right across the street from my house, and the girl Alicia, you know, the Spanish one, lives there. And the band was practicing-"

"What band?"

"My band. Well, me and my boyfriend Andy."

"Continue."

"Okay, so we were practicing, and she comes storming toward us, shouting that we needed to tone it down. So we played louder and she came yelling again, and she said she was gonna call the cops."

I snort. "That's what you had to tell me?"

"A girl who's the same age as I am threatens to call the cops because of a garage band. Is this sinking in?"

Now it is. I snicker. "I'm gonna call Ava."

* * *

***AVALON'S POV***

I'm almost finished with the eleventh chapter of the book I'm reading for my report when my Droid rings. I pick up. "Yo."

"Hey, Ava? It's Brynn."

"Oh. Hi."

"You know that new girl. The one that's running around bragging about being the "Beta of the Pretty Commitee.""

"Oh, yeah."

"She apparently lives in that huge mansion across from Beth Stewart, and Andy's band was practicing, and she told them she was gonna call the cops on them. She was going to call the frickin' cops!"

"Wow. That's pathetic." I can almost see her rolling her eyes. "Hey, I'm gonna go tell Tess Brooks."

"'K." I turn my phone off and finish my algebra.

* * *

***TESS'S POV***

**AVALONKATYE: Hey, Tess.  
TESSABROOKS: What's up?  
AVALONKATYE: Info on New Girl #2.  
TESSABROOKS: The Spanish one?  
AVALONKATYE: Yeah.  
TESSABROOKS: Do tell.  
AVALONKATYE: She threatened to call the cops on Andy Moore's garage band.  
TESSABROOKS: No she didn't.  
AVALONKATYE: Did. She moved into that mansion across the street from her that the Astors used to live in.  
TESSABROOKS: LOL. Did she actually do it?  
AVALONKATYE: I don't think so.  
TESSABROOKS: LOL. I'm going 2 tell Izzy.**

* * *

***ISABELLE'S POV***

By the time Tess texted me, I'd already heard the news from pretty much everyone. As they say, all roads lead to Rome. So I had a quick conversation with her, hung up, and grinned. Soon, these new girls would get the picture.

We have our own cool group, and they're not part of it. They're the rich loners who invaded our school and became the cause of some interesting local gossip. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

And most people think I have no clue that I'm popular, but I know alright. And believe me, they're not stealing my throne.

* * *

***DYLAN'S POV***

I can just tell that gossip is flying. I have no clue why Alicia felt like she had to yell at them. She couldn't just leave well enough alone?

And now everyone thinks we're the freaks. And the members of the Pretty Commitee are nawt freaks. We're the A-List of Westchester.

And if they don't know that, they'll find out.

One week.

* * *

***LILA'S POV***

Everyone's saying those new girls are whack-jobs, except I think they're pretty nice. Sure, they were dressed up a little fancy for school, but that doesn't mean they're bad people. Why is it that mean gossip is always more fun to spread than kind gossip?

* * *

***KRISTEN'S POV***

I scribble in a few more answers to my crossword and glance proudly over the completed puzzle. Although Clear Creek Academy is a public school and therefore completely free, I like to keep my grades up. I need to get into a good college so I can can get a good job and... The list goes on and on.

I think I made a pretty good impression, hawnestly. I'm pretty sure Karolyn likes me, and the others have no reason nawt to.

I just can't believe Alicia almost called the police. That ruined everything. We could have integrated ourselves into the community and made friends and for once in our lives been normal instead of always in the spotlight. Now, though, we're going to be either total losers, or we'll have to become popular. There's no way around it. We already stand out, and it's up to us whether we want to be viewed as loners or rulers.

* * *

***BRIGIT'S POV***

"Why the hell is everyone still obsessing over those new girls? Who cares who they are or where they're from or what they did? Why can't we just go on with our lives?" I ask Vicky Richards.

"No idea," she replies. "I guess it's cuz there's, like, nothing to do around here. Spreading rumors is fun for some people."

"Maybe," I acknowledge. "Here, take a picture."

She leans in and makes a face, and I snap it, posting it on Instagram, the new social media that everyone's caught up in. I don't have a whole lot of photos, mostly just me and my friends, maybe a few a month, but most of the school still follows me.

My mom drops Vicky off at her house and turns around to go back home. "What new girls?" she wants to know.

My mom is young for a mother of a freshman. She's 38, with long blonde, silky hair, blue eyes, and a pert nose. Her lips can't be called thick, but they certainly aren't thin. She has porcelain skin, a ready smile, and great posture. She's also a total social butterfly.

"They came from Octavian Country Day," I tell her.

She raises a delicate eyebrow. "Why'd they come to Clear Creek?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure. They seem to hate it here anyway. I think most of the school wishes they'd just go back."

"That's not nice, sweetie. You're not talking behind their backs, are you?"

"No way," I assure her instantly. "I really don't care one way or the other."

"You wouldn't." She grins fondly at me. "I love you, Brigit."

"You too, Mom."

* * *

***CLAIRE'S POV***

I rifle through my closet, trying to find Massie-approved clothes. Nawt that it matters. The whole school thinks we're idiots, all thanks to Alicia. Gawd, I hope Massie kicks her out.

I mean, calling the police? Really?!

I clench my fist in anger and narrow my eyes. Of all the idiotic ideas, this one just takes the cake.


	4. Chapter 4

"Thank Gawd it's finally break," Alicia moaned. "For a while I thought they didn't have it here."

"Me too," Dylan agreed.

"That's them," Alicia hissed.

"Who?" Kristen wanted to know.

"_Them. _The ones I yelled at. The garage band." She gestured with her chin to a couple strolling hand-in-hand down the hall. A few other kids flanked them, chatting amongst themselves.

The girl was attired in leggings, (probably faux) suede cowboy boots with ankle buckles, and a neon green flowy shirt with an obvious Hollister logo. She had uber-short, straight dark hair, a few freckles, and eyes that could only be described as aqua. She was one of those girls who obviously never tanned.

The boy she was walking with had black hair, brown eyes, and an Italian complexion. He was obviously in love with her. The other kids didn't draw much attention, although one boy with golden hair did make eye contact with a few interested girls.

The couple stopped in front of the Pretty Commitee. Automatically, Alicia positioned herself next to Massie. Dylan and Claire dropped behind. They were thought of as the weak ones, but they could definitely be counted on for some biting backup. Kristen was on the other side of Massie, lined up with Alicia, who was a couple of steps behind the Alpha. They'd drilled this too many times.

"Can we help you?" Massie sniped, placing a hand on her hip.

The girl looked at Alicia and shot daggers. "You flipped out on us without even knowing my name. So, hi, I'm Bethany Stewart. How ya doing?" She smirked and extended a hand.

Alicia looked at it as though it were a dog turd. "Fine, thanks." A light crimson blush spread over her cheeks. "How 'bout you?"

"Annoyed, thanks." She grinned. "Who taught you manners?"

"My _famous Spanish model mother, Ally Rivera,_" she shot back.

Bethany just laughed. "Never heard of her."

"Good for you. Come awn, girlies." And they strutted away.

* * *

Marie was heading to sixth period English when she caught sight of a Kate Spade plaque gleaming on the zipper of a purse. She sped up to catch sight of the girl holding it, delighted to see her turn into her classroom. Why hadn't she seen her yesterday? Oh, right, she'd cut so she could smoke in the deserted girls' bathroom on the second floor.

She followed Kate Spade girl into Mrs. Raymond's class and purposely sat down next to her. The others had been right. She was attired in dark wash Rock&Republic jeans with a DKNY rose-pink tank top and a shrunken white Burberry blazer. On her feet were pale pink slides that were most likely by Jimmy Choo.

She bit her lip in an effort not to barf up the pack of Oreos she'd eaten for lunch. This girl could not be for real.

* * *

Dylan knew the only reason so many people wanted to befriend her was because she was Merri-Lee Marvil's daughter. But it didn't matter to her. She'd always needed others to make her feel adored.

"Omigod, I _love_ your sweater!" one girl shouted, even though she was sitting right next to the redhead.

"Thanks." She smiled and dipped her ratty paintbrush into the murky water. She dabbed it on a napkin and then smothered it into green watercolor paint from one of those cheap 10-piece sets. She tried to illustrate her tree, but the bristles kept separating and flinging paint across her paper and she couldn't do it anymore. _Why had she ever listened to Massie?_

* * *

Kristen rediscovered her Social Studies classroom without too much trouble. She ducked inside and sat in the front, in direct sight of the teacher's desk. Force of habit.

She was sick of the Pretty Commitee. Massie insisted on wearing the fanciest clothes she could find, in an effort to make the kids at Clear Creek feel quote-unquote "inferior." Alicia was such a drama queen, calling the cops like she had. Dylan was basking in the attention being a COC brought her. At least Claire was being normal. Kristen slipped her Motorola out of her pocket.

**SEXYSPORTSBABE: Kuh-laire?  
CLAIREBEAR: Yeah?  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: Am I the only one being driven crazy by our friends?  
CLAIREBEAR: Nawt at all.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: IKR  
CLAIREBEAR: They r being kind of... high-maintenance.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: No shit.  
CLAIREBEAR: R u saying u want a break?  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: U know me 2 well.  
CLAIREBEAR: It's just cuz... well, I kind of do 2.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: We don't need to leave the PC or nething. We just don't have 2 limit ourselves. We can be friends with whoever we want 2 be friends with.  
CLAIREBEAR: Ah-greed.**

* * *

"My Gawd," Massie murmured. She was standing at her locker, twirling the lock and begging it to open. "Puh-lease work, puh-lease work, puh-lease work..." No luck.

Instead, she heard a voice. "Need some help?"

Flustered, she glanced up at a girl with long blonde hair and tan skin-Callie Kaligaris. In other words, or more like Massie's words, Hollister Girl. Which translated to LBR. "No thanks."

"Alright." She pulled a purple-and-brown plaid backpack out and slammed the door. "Oh, and by the way, why were you so bitchy to me yesterday?"

"Huh? I wasn't bitchy." She straightened up to her full height of 5'3. Even so, Callie was still taller than her.

"Um, yeah you were. You wouldn't talk to me when I tried to make conversation, and-"

"Alright, I get it." Massie rolled her eyes. "Look, it's just new school, new-"

"Yeah, yeah, you gave me that already. Look, Massie, if you don't like me, you can just say so. We don't have to play mind games."

She flushed. "You're kind of an LBR."

"An LBR? What's that, Lucky Bit-"

"No! It stands for Loser Beyond Repair, okay? And that's what you are, a Loser Beyond Repair."

She stopped. "You think I'm a loser?" Her face fell, and her green eyes filled with tears. Her mouth dropped open, and now people were stopping to stare.

Massie opened her mouth. She had to fix this. But before she could say something, Callie started laughing. "You really think I care about your opinion?"

"_Everyone _cares about my opinion. I'm _Massie Block_. People line up awn the _streets_ to get my opinion." Fire bubbled in her.

"We don't."

She fumed. "Callie, are you a female dog?"

"Not the last time I checked."

"Then why are you acting like such a bitch?"

"Hey, Massie, are you a sweater set?"

She knew better than to answer. She really did. But, for some reason, her mouth took off without her mind. "No."

"Cuz you've just met your match."


	5. Chapter 5

Massie had decided there was no point in getting to school early, not if there were already students outside. So it was two minutes to eight, and they'd only just pulled up outside of Clear Creek. Honestly, it was a welcome change from waking up at the crack of dawn to get to BOCD. But she would have done anything, including trading in her brand-new been-on-the-waiting-list-for-six-months Marc by Marc Jacobs messenger bag to go back.

"Okay, girls, outfit checks," she called across the car, clapping her hands. "Leesh, you're up first."

Alicia was attired in a sea-foam-green-colored draped tank. A cream-colored Guess pencil skirt went down to her lower thigh, and a matching cinched knit jacket was buttoned over it. On her feet were ivory Jimmy Choo heels, and in her ears were triple-hoop gold earrings with an emerald stone in the middle by Chanel. "9.5.," Massie told her without hesitation. "Too matchy-matchy. But pretty. Dyl?"

The Gamma was wearing a Stella McCartney color-block dress in black and white with a simple black Ann Taylor clutch and black pumps. Her fiery tresses was straightened, and through the sheet of hair shown glistening obsidian crystal earrings. "9.6. Beautiful, but just slightly too much. You should save that outfit for something fancy. Kris?"

True to her typical sporty-chic style, Kristen had on cute black skinny jeans that fit her body type perfectly by For All Mankind. A mellow-yellow Alice&Olivia top screamed stylish-but-not-trying-too-hard. On her feet were similar flats, and over her shoulder was a huge black Donna Karan bag. "9.7.," Massie proclaimed. "Next." She shot a pointed look at Claire.

The blonde Floridian was sporting a simple blue Tommy Hilfiger eyelet sundress with white patent leather ballet flats. She didn't carry anything except for a white shoulder bag from Forever 21, which held her books. "9.4. What's with the cheap shit?"

Claire shrugged. "I just don't think we have to try as hard as you say we do to win at this school."

"She's right, Mass," Kristen agreed apologetically. "They're never going to accept us if we keep acting like we're so much better than them."

"We don't need them to _accept_ us," Dylan countered. "We just need to rule."

"Exactly," Massie affirmed. "They need time to get used to us. They need to understand that we are the Pretty Committee, and we are not backing down. We will never change for them. Right, girlies?"

"Done," Alicia agreed.

"Done," Dylan added immediately.

"Done." Kristen's was fainter, with a light twinge of uncertainty mixed in.

"Done." Claire's was just as unexcited as Kristen's.

"What's _wron__g_ with you?" Massie demanded.

"I just... never mind." Claire sighed.

Kristen followed her friend's lead and didn't say a word.

But something was going to change.

* * *

"I wonder if they're still wearing designer," Lila giggled.

Brynn shrugged. "Probably."

"Why are we so obsessed with them anyway?" Brigit wanted to know. "I mean, seriously, who cares?"

"They're fun to talk about," Isabelle told her. "It's not like we have anything else to do at this lame-ass school."

"We must seem super lame-ass to them." Brynn grinned. "I mean, face it, they came from _Octvian Country Day._" Suddenly, her face lit up. "Omigod, that's him! That's him!"

"Who?" asked LuLu.

"Hunter."

"She's _totally_ in love," Isabelle explained, rolling her eyes.

Just then, Tess came running up to them, her tan face streaked with tears. All thoughts of Hunter Ferrara left their heads. "He... he..." She broke off.

"What's wrong?" Lila exclaimed, pulling Tess closer. "What happened?!"

"He... he... look what he sent me. Look!" She yanked her phone out of her pocket and shoved it in Lila's face.

Brynn took control. "Who?"

"J-Jake," she sobbed, passing her Samsung Galaxy around. It portrayed a clear picture of a tall boy with fair hair and stormy green eyes. His hands were wrapped around another girl's waist, and his lips were on hers. As they were looking, a text beeped through.

**JAKE SIMMONS: ****It's not what it looks like, sweetheart. Tess, u have 2 believe me. Let me explain. Meet me in the back in three mins.**

"Should I?" she asked tearfully.

"Wait, is that your boyfriend?" LuLu inquired in her usual clueless fashion.

"Y-yes."

"Of course you shouldn't!" Brigit decreed furiously. "He's a two-timing asshole."

"B-but..."

"He's a _player_," Isabelle snapped. "A cheater. He always has been. And isn't he like two years older than you anyway?"

"So?"

"It's true love," Lila pointed out.

"No it's not!" Brigit shouted as she turned toward Tess. She bent her knees a little so she was even with the brunette. "He's using you; can't you see that?"

"B-but he said he l-loved me."

"Well he obviously doesn't!"

"Brigit!" Brynn raised her eyebrows, looking horrified. "Be nice."

Tess growled. "I'm going to see what he has to say," she announced, before turning on her heel and marching down the hall toward the rear doors.

* * *

"Okay, girlies, to the beat of The Pussycat Dolls' When I Grow Up," Massie ordered.

They shifted into formation and got the beat going in their heads. Then they each sang a line to make sure they were all in the same place.

"Boys call you sexy, and you don't care what they say," Dylan and Kristen murmured.

"Now I've got a confession: when I was young I wanted attention," Alicia preened.

"When I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies. When I grow up, I wanna see the world, drive nice cars; I wanna have groupies," Massie and Claire sang loudly, attracting more than a few bemused, amused stares.

Massie ignored them. "No!" she laugh-snapped. "My part, the chorus. Ready?"

The group nodded, and strutted into school. But when they noticed they were surrounded by eight girls, they froze.

Claire was the only one who noticed another student, who was standing slightly off to the side: a girl with deep brown hair cut in a messy, layered bob with choppy side bangs. She had on dark red lipstick and heavy black eyeliner. She was dressed in filthy, ripped-up skinny jeans with a black leather vest, and Claire wouldn't have sworn she had on anything underneath it. On her feet were black-and-red Osiris's. She had a cigarette just barely poking out of her mouth, but it was mostly concealed behind her hand (the nails were painted bloody crimson) so no one would notice it. Just as Claire was about to jab her friends and point her out, a student in the front of the mob started talking.

With a simpering smirk, she stepped up. "I'm Isabelle Angelico," she informed them bossily. "Don't call me Izzy. I save that privilege for my friends." A couple of them laughed.

The Alpha met her gaze. "Massie Block. Don't call me Mass. I save that privilege for my friends." She extended a sharp hand, and Isabelle met it reluctantly, after sneaking a look at her friends.

"I wouldn't consider it." She tossed her neat layered locks behind her shoulder. "Oh, how rude of me!" she add-exclaimed. "_These _are my _friends_: Callie Kaligaris-"

"Met her." Massie rolled her eyes and shot daggers at the LBR.

"Karolyn Stern-"

"Met her!" Kristen chimed in with a happy tone to her voice. Massie glared.

"Beth Stewart." She seemed like she was expecting to be interrupted.

"Met her," Alicia grumbled.

"Oh, right, you were the one who called the cops," Isabelle muttered delicately. "Anyway, this is Brynn Presscott."

No one said anything.

"Ava Katye."

She acknowledged their presence by waving.

"Lila Kasper, and Brigit Callahan."

"Thanks for sharing." Dylan shrugged and linked arms with Massie and Kristen, who were on either side of her. "Alright, girlies, let's go."

* * *

In Social Studies, Kristen sat down next to Karolyn, crossed her fingers, and hoped her face wasn't blazing. "SorryaboutbeforeKarolyn."

"What? Did you say something to me?" The blonde was considerably more formal. She avoided eye contact as she organized her pencil case.

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier, Karolyn. Mass and Dyl kinda have... tempers."

"It's okay." Karolyn forced herself to look up at Kristen. "Really." She grinned, but it didn't meet her eyes.

"So, uh, did you get these answers?" Kristen shoved her homework sheet onto her semi-friend's desk.

"Um, yeah. Look, Kristen, I, uh, don't really think..." She trailed off and never finished, but Kristen knew what she was going to say.

"Isabelle doesn't want us to be friends, does she?" she asked bluntly.

"Not really."

"Well, I don't particularly want to be friends with Massie right now. So you know what? How 'bout we give it a try? You wanna introduce me to her later without the Pretty Commitee around?"

"I don't think she likes you."

"Maybe she will."

* * *

"Where is she?" Massie fumed. "Lunch started ten minutes ago. This isn't even fashionably late anymore. It's just _late_."

"I have no clue," Alicia responded. "Just go in. No one gives a crap when we enter. This isn't OCD, Mass." She echoed what her friends had told her before.

"It's the right thing to do. Always wait for your friends." They waited another twenty minutes. Now lunch was almost over, and they still hadn't eaten. "Fine." Defeatedly, she led the group inside. When she saw Kristen, she had to blink repeatedly to ensure that she wasn't seeing things. She jabbed Alicia in the side.

"What?"

"Look." She chin-pointed toward the blonde.

"Ehmagawd," Alicia gasped, passing the information around like a game of telephone.

Soon, the Pretty Commitee, or what was left of it, anyway, was glancing discreetly at the table two down and one left. Sitting there were Karolyn Stern, Isabelle Angelico, Brynn Presscott, and a girl with slightly frizzy brown hair that they hadn't met. That was annoying, but okay. No. The problem was who they were sitting _with_.

Kristen Michelle Gregory, who was GGGing (giggling, gossiping, and glossing) and looking as though she was having the time of her life. Kristen Michelle Gregory was fraternizing with the fucking enemy.

Fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**So guess what? I'm going to Europe next week. I'll be there for three weeks and then school starts. With all that, I probably won't be on FanFiction for a while. So this will be the last chapter for about a month, unless I get lucky in Europe and have time and Internet to type. So see you maybe!**

**Heart ya,  
Joy  
**

**P.S. But I'll be back!**

* * *

"You were right," Kristen told Karolyn later as they yanked their things out of their adjoining lockers. "Isabelle is nice."

"Told you so." She shrugged.

Just then, Massie walked by. In one fluid motion, she grabbed Kristen's arm, spun around, and jammed the Delta against the wall. "What the hell are you doing? And where the fuck were you during lunch?"

"I'm _talking_, Mass. And I was sitting with Karolyn during lunch."

"You sit with _us_," Massie ordered. "We're your friends. Nawt them."

"They're my friends too." She closed her locker door, slung her Jansport backpack over one shoulder, and left the building, walking right next to Karolyn.

Massie stared after them in disbelief. On Monday, they could take over. Four days. On Monday.

* * *

Karolyn acted as though she'd neither seen nor heard the exchange that had just occured. "You think we could hang out sometime?"

"Maybe. But I don't want to lose Massie as a friend."

"You said yesterday that you didn't care."

"I was mad yesterday," she pointed out.

"Just think about it," she suggested. "We're having a sleepover on Friday at Brynn's house. Come if you want."

"Where's Brynn's house?"

"Oh. Here." She scribbled directions on a sheet of looseleaf, then read them aloud. "Turn left when you leave Clear Creek, right at the stop sign, then straight until you hit that old yellow house that looks like it's haunted. Turn down that side road. Her house is 3932 Strawberry Street."

"Alright." Kristen smiled and folded the paper. After sliding it into her pocket, she waved to Karolyn. "See you tomorrow!" Breaking into a run, she approached her mother's car. She thanked her lucky stars that she had a doctor's appointment; otherwise, she'd have been walking home in the rain. Because she didn't particularly think that Massie was going to be inviting her into the Range Rover with a cup of hot chocolate.

* * *

"She abandoned us!" Massie crowed, sitting up straight in the backseat of the Range Rover. "To hang out with Karolyn Stern!"

"That's harsh, Mass," Dylan agreed, stuffing her face with a pile of Baked Lays.

"Opposite of guh-reat!" Alicia said. "How are we going to take them down next week if one of our own has already sided with them?"

"She's officially become the enemy," Massie announced. "She's one of them now. Kristen Michelle Gregory has officially lost Pretty Commitee status."


	7. Chapter 7

Kristen took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell of Brynn's house. Although Clear Creek Academy was in Westchester, it wasn't situated smack in the middle of one of the nicest areas, like OCD was. So Brynn's home was a two-story, medium-sized Victorian, painted white with red shutters. It was just like a hundred other houses on her block, although her parents had paid for a pool.

The door opened. "Hey!" It was a girl she didn't know, and for a heart-stopping second she thought she was at the wrong address.

"Kristen, right?" She had tan skin, dark hair that had clearly just been let out of a tight braid, and cinnamon-colored, sparkly eyes. "I'm Jasmine Cartlington. You can call me Jazzy." She grinned. "Come on in!"

"Alright." She waved to her mom, who beeped once and backed out. "So who's here?" she asked casually, just to get an idea of what she was in for.

"Uh, Izzy Angelico, Ava Katye, and Karolyn Stern. And me. It's not, like, a party or anything. Just a fun night."

"Okay." She followed Jasmine up the stairs to Brynn's room. Halfway there, she was apprehended by a tall woman with faint laugh lines around her eyes and lips and pale skin. Her glittering emerald eyes matched her daughter's. She extended a hand.

"I don't think I've met you. Kristen Gregory?"

She nodded and shook the woman's hand.

"I'm Gemma Presscott, Brynn's mother. Nice to meet you."

Kristen hoisted her tote bag higher on her shoulder. "You too." She smiled and kept walking.

When Jasmine pushed open the door to Brynn's bedroom, the effect was instantaneous.

"Hey!" Karolyn leapt up. "I knew you'd come!"

Brynn tilted her head. "Hel-lo!" she sang out, brandishing a nail-polish bottle filled with gloppy blue liquid.

Isabelle fluttered her eyelashes and smirked. "Hi."

"We're doing nails," Karolyn explained. "Pick a color." She gestured toward a pink basket filled to the brim with a collection that had clearly taken many years to build.

She leaned in and was about to pick up a lavender when Izzy said, "Remember, girls, we need winter colors! Lots of greens and reds this year!"

"Oh." Kristen dropped her hand, then reached in again and selected sea-foam.

"Here." Jasmine pushed Kristen's fingers into a styrofoam separator and uncapped the container. "Ready?"

* * *

"Treachery," Massie hissed. "That was betrayal. And we awl know what the punishment for betrayal is."

"Lifelong exclution from the Pretty Commitee," Dylan offered.

"Yes," Massie agreed. "But more importantly..." She looked at Alicia.

"Revenge."

* * *

**So? Any fabulous ideas about how the PC should get their revenge? If so, you know what to do:**


	8. Chapter 8

**I feel like I owe you a nice long chapter and not some stupid little skimp-out, so here is your 2,140-word chapter. Without any ado, let me present...**

* * *

**SEXYSPORTSBABE: Does Massie h8 me?  
CLAIREBEAR: Possibly.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: But those girls r so nice. I really think she would like them, 2, if she just tried 2 get 2 know them a little.  
CLAIREBEAR: Massie makes instant desicions; u know that. She doesn't give peeps a chance. They're either in or out.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: But she walked in thinking this entire skl was out. That's nawt fair.  
CLAIREBEAR: That's Mass 4 u.**

Kristen sighed and powered her phone off. This was stressing her out. Like she didn't have enough to do, taking Honors classes in almost every subject and trying to impress her mom, now she had to deal with Massie's wrath.

"Kristen!" Someone shook her shoulder. "Stop spacing out!"

"Sorry," she apologized automatically, turning to look at whoever had spoken. "I'm just worried about what Massie's gonna think."

"Does she really rule your life like this?" Karolyn asked. "You don't seem like the kind of girl who would let someone do that."

"I've known her for forever," she explained, shrugging. "She's always been the leader."

"Why can't you be your own leader?" Karolyn inquired. "You can't still be friends?"

"No. It doesn't work that way. It's like she has some compulsive leader thing. I just let it go and duck under her radar when I have to. But this can't work like that. So I made my choice. Stawp making me regret it."

"Maybe you should talk to Brynn," Karolyn suggested thoughtfully. "Or Belle, that girl you told me about that you used to be on a soccer team with."

"Maybe," Kristen agreed half-heartedly. But she knew no one else would understand. This was her own problem, and she'd have to deal with it. "Massie's probably planning horrible revenge right this second. And no one does revenge like the Pretty Commitee."

"Then we'll just have to be prepared. I'll tell the others, and we'll figure something out. We've got you, Kris, okay? Don't forget it."

"Thanks." She smiled.

She just really hoped she could trust Karolyn Stern.

* * *

"She's dead," Massie declared. "She is so, so dead."

"What are we gonna do to her?" Dylan asked eagerly. If she'd been given a choice, she would rather have left the Pretty Commitee with Kristen. But she didn't have enough backbone to do it, and Kristen hadn't offered to support her. So she was a little pissed.

"Do we have to be this serious?" Claire wanted to know. "It's nawt like she's openly proclaimed war. She's just making new friends. That's what I did with you guys in seventh grade. My Florida friends didn't hate me. Why do you hate her?"

"Cuz she _knows_ we came here to rule! And she knows why! And she knows we have to, or _we're _dead too. She's making this so hard for us. Her best friends since who-knows-when, and she's ahbviously _trying_ to screw this up!"

"No she's _nawt_!" Claire screamed.

"Why are you siding with her?" Alicia demanded. "What she did was _wrong._ We're just trying to get her back."

"And I think I know how to do it," Massie gloated.

"How?" Alicia grinned, her eyebrows raised and her eyes sparkling.

"What have we never, ever done before?"

"Blackmail?" Claire piped up.

"Uh, _no_. We do that awl the time. You just like to pretend we don't."

"Spread rumors, gossip, or backstab," Alicia giggled. "_Nawt._"

"Very funny. No. Girls, we are going to prank that bitch. And awl her newfound friends, too. And oh, they are going to hate her until kingdom come for this one."

* * *

"Who'd you tell?" Kristen inquired, sliding into the seat between Karolyn and Lila.

"Everyone who you know, pretty much." She ticked off on her fingers. "Brynn, obviously, Jazzy, Izzy, Ava, Lila. And anyone else you want to know."

"Anyone you associate with," Kristen warned. "And pretty much anyone I've ever spoken to. I know the way those girls play. No one and nuh-thing is safe. Literally."

"Got it." And she strolled off in the direction of a group of fellow freshmen surrounding a girl with bright blonde hair.

Kristen ran her hands through her boob-length mane onto her shirt. The girls had gone to the mall together the morning after they'd slept over at Brynn's, and Kristen had lots of money to spend on clothes. Although her family was still stuck in the Pinewood, they'd moved into the penthouse because Marsha had started working full-time at an investment company. So not only did she have more to dish out (plus a credit card {"For emergencies," her mother had cautioned as she handed it over}), the clothing at Hollister, Aeropostale, Forever 21, H&M, Abercrombie&Fitch, and the other middle-class-cool stores the girls favored was so much cheaper than Massie, Alicia, and Dylan's tastes that she was able to purchase as much as she wanted.

So she was attired in a navy blue short-sleeved top with Hollister spelled out in fraying white thread. It showed off her broad shoulders and slim body, and accentuated the dark flecks in her otherwise turquoise iris's. And she wasn't being sneered and laughed at behind hands anymore. In fact, she'd noticed people staring at her in disbelief. She wasn't sure, though, if it was utter transformation disbelief or Omigod, you joined the popular crowd! disbelief, but either way, she was used to it.

"Kristen! I told Brigit and her group, k? That's all of them." She waved toward the cluster, which was starting to disperse. "The only people I'm friends with who I haven't told are Gabi, you know, Languille, and Vicky Richards. Gabi's absent today, and Vicky's in the other lunchroom."

"Thanks, Karolyn." Kristen smiled gratefully.

"Welcome."

* * *

"Anyone have any fantastic pranking ideas?" Massie prompted. "I have a few, but you know, this is a democracy and awl that."

"We could superglue their chairs to their butts," Claire suggested meekly.

"Uh, Kuh-laire, that is _so _fourth grade. Leesh?"

"Hmm." She tapped her pen against her freshly waxed chin. "It's kind of typical, but do you know the password to Kristen's phone, anyone?"

Claire raised her hand a fraction of an inch.

"Kuh-laire!" Massie scolded. "Are you in awn this or nawt?!"

"I am, I am," she assured them.

"Good." Massie folded her arms over her B-Cups. "What is it?"

"Um, 6832," she rattled off, crossing her fingers in her lap and covering them with her other hand.

Massie scribbled it down. "Thanks, girlie. I'm glad you're on our side. See you in Social Studies!"

Right then, the bell rang, and the cafetorium rang with the sounds of chairs scraping back and kids shouting. Boys pushed and shoved, girls giggled and squealed and flipped their hair. Massie cringed.

For the umpteenth time, she wished she hadn't made that horrible desicion. Clear Creek wasn't worth it.

* * *

Claire sat through Orchestra half-playing, half-rejoicing. The esteemed Massie Block, the fairest liar of them all, had just been lied to. By none other than yours truly, Claire Lyons.

* * *

**SEXYSPORTSBABE: U need 2 prepare them 4 anything. The Pretty Commitee will go awl out. And IDK what they have up their sleeves. So we need 2 be ready.  
KAROLYNSTERN: Will u chill, Kris? I told u, it's all under control. Now take a deep breath, count 2 ten, and chillax, girl.**

* * *

**MASSIEKUR: Meeting my house after skl. Call ur parents and tell them u'll be home 4 dinner.  
**

* * *

"So what's the plan?" Alicia demanded. Her eyes shone with the prospect of revenge.

"Well..." Noticing their murderous glares, she hastily added, "Okay, we're going to take this one step at a time. Does anyone have any classes with Kristen?"

"Math," Dylan said.

"Gym," Claire put in.

"What periods?"

"Second."

"Third."

"Fabulous. Dyl, go for it in Math. Try to grab her phone. You can _nawt_ let _anyone _see you. This is serious. If you think you guys can't handle it, I'll try to snitch it at lunch while her group is awn the snack line."

"I can't believe anyone eats that shit," Alicia cringed. "It's greasy and fattening and way too high in calories. Like, ew x10!"

"I agree," Massie told her seriously. "But nawt the point." She looked at Claire. "Is there a way for you to go through her stuff in Gym?"

"Uh, maybe, if Ms. Sarsoon doesn't come out of her office until after the bell rings. But you shouldn't count awn me."

"Okay." She glanced at the Gamma. "Dylan, we're counting awn you."

* * *

***THE NEXT DAY*  
*MATH***

Dylan was poised perfectly. Her assigned desk was exactly one column and two rows over from Kristen's, which gave her a perfect opportunity to pretend to drop something when Kristen wasn't in her seat, and reach over and grab the blonde's binder. Then she could say, 'Crap, I can't believe that fell!' then drop it. Everything would scatter, her phone would slide across the brown-tiled floor, Dylan could pocket it, and she would achieve the first ever Pretty Commitee mission she'd been solely trusted with.

She watched as Kristen slid into her chair and began to talk animately with a girl who had big brown doe eyes and pale skin. Then she saw Kristen rise from her chair and walk toward the pencil sharpener. Now was the time.

She nudged her pencil off her desk, watched it roll across the floor, and then leaned down to get it. As she did, she bumped Kristen's binder, which, as she had planned, dropped. _Bingo._ "Oops!" she announced loudly.

The girl Kristen had been chatting with sighed and bent to help gather the blonde's supplies. Dylan quickly pinched her cheeks to make it appear as though she had been blushing and leafed through Kristen's pencil case as fast as she could, trying to find her phone.

"Um, what are you doing?" asked a girl with almond-shaped greenish-blue eyes and uber-short, dark hair. "Why are you looking through her stuff?"

"I am _nawt_," Dylan defended, making a last-second attempt to zip up the case.

"Yeah you are. Don't lie."

"Whatevs." Dylan tossed her hair so it fell perfectly over the back of her green peplum tube top by Gucci. "What do you know?"

"Actually-"

"Girls!" Mrs. Rancine shouted as she marched in. "Please."

"Sorry," they both murmured. But as they sat back down, and mystery bitch shot Dylan a death glare, she realized three things. One, she had attracted attention, which led to two, she had just made the Pretty Commitee even more enemies than they'd originally had, which led to three, 'Ehmagawd Massie is going to murder me.'

* * *

During their next passing period, Massie swatted Dylan on the arm. "Did you get it?"

"No. Sorry."

Massie didn't look angry. "Alright. I'll tell Kuh-laire."

* * *

"I got it!" Claire shouted triumphantly, waving the device over her head.

Alicia snatched it. "Gawd, Kuh-laire, way to get us caught."

"Sorry," she muttered, looking downcast.

"It's okay," Massie soothed her. "The important thing is that we got it." She pressed the button to turn it on. Her lock screen came up, asking for a password. "What did you say her code was?"

"Um..." She panicked. What exactly _had_ she said? "Um... 6834."

"Are you sure?" Alicia inquired. "I thought you said it was 683_2_."

"Nuh-uh. I'm sure it's 4," she insisted. "Try both, Mass."

Neither worked.

"Kuh-_laire_," Massie growled. "What is going awn?"

"Nuh-thing! She must have changed it since she last told me."

"Oh Gawd," Dylan moaned, burying her face in her hands. "Now what?"

"We hack," instructed Massie. "We have about eight more guesses until it locks us out. And then if we make four more mistakes, we'll be out for an entire hour and a notification will be sent to Kristen's e-mail." She glanced at her Epsilon, who had now been promoted to Delta. "What do you know?"

Soon, they were locked out for an hour.

And the best (or worst) part (depending on who you're rooting for), was that Claire had known Kristen's password the entire time.


	9. Chapter 9

Late Tuesday night, Massie invited the girls over for a last-second meeting. She waited patiently for everyone to assemble on her white shag rug before speaking. Very gently, she balanced the phone on her palm, passed it around for everyone to see, smiled, and said, "I got in."

Dylan wanted to shriek with excitement, but if Massie could hold it in, so could she.

"Why are we being so quiet?" Claire wondered.

"Mom doesn't know I have people over, and she's downstairs at a dinner party I'm supposed to be co-hosting," she whispered. "She thinks I'm sick. Anyway, I had one of William's associates install a bot and hack in."

Alicia took the electronic and turned it on. As it loaded, she murmured, "You never told us what we're doing with this."

"I didn't?" Massie feigned surprise. "Well, here's the deal: we're going to-"

"Massie Elizabeth Block!" she heard Kendra shout from the upstairs landing, right outside Massie's room.

"Shit, guys," she muttered. "Shit, shit, shit! Leesh, closet, Guess section. Dyl, next to the mirrors by the pile of beanbag chairs. Kuh-laire, bathroom. That space behind the toilet."

"Eww!"

"Too bad!" Massie climbed into bed, pulled the covers up around her, spit on her hand and rubbed it around so it would make her face look shiny and sweaty, mussed up her hair, turned sideways, and pretended she was coughing up a storm. Then she choked out, "Yes, Mom?"

Kendra threw open the door. "I know-" She stopped short, glaring suspiciously around the empty room. "You have-"

"What do I have, Mom?" She fake-coughed again. "Other than the flu."

"You-" She marched over to the closet door and flung it open, then began rifling through her daughter's clothes.

"Mo-om! Get out! That's my personal area!"

"You're hiding something!" Kendra snapped.

"I am nawt!"

Kendra slammed the closet door. "Let me get something straight with you. I am tired of you tip-toeing around behind my back and-"

Massie heard a snort from behind her. Reflexively, she whipped around, just in time to see a shock of red hair disappear back down beneath the beanbags. Kendra, too, turned, but she was just a millisecond too late.

"Nuh-thing there, Mom, is there?" she taunted.

Kendra growled, but didn't start searching. "You better start showing some extraordinary behavior, young lady. And if I get one call from that new school of yours, just _one_, you are grounded until the end of eternity!"

"Dramatic much, Mom? Sheesh."

"Do not be sarcastic with me!" With that, she ducked outside. "Excuse me, I have a dinner party to host."

* * *

"Where is it?" Kristen grumbled, digging through her bag's contents yet again. "Gawd, Mom will _kill _me if I left it in my locker." She turned it over, dumping her items onto the worn rug of her room. A knock sounded at the door. "Ugh." She got up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"What are you doing?" Marsha surveyed the mess.

"Just looking for something," she said dismissively. "Whaddya need, Mom?"

"Wanted to ask how school was today. Are you getting good grades? Oh, did I remember to put enough money on your account for lunch?"

"Fine, yes, and no, I had to borrow money from Karolyn, so I have to pay her back tomorrow."

"Well, I'm glad she trusts you. Tell me when you're going to bed, hon."

Kristen nodded and closed the door after her mother.

Then she resumed frantically searching for her iPhone.

* * *

**If you don't mind checking the poll on my profile about this story, that would be fantastic. :) Especially if you are a person who likes writing about, reading about, talking about, thinking about, or actually pulling off revenge. ;)**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**


	10. Chapter 10

**I think I owe two people a huge thank-you. Normally, I PM people with things like this, but you can't PM guests.**

**One: To a guest named Stef, who stood up for me against another guest, whose review I have deleted. So thank you very, very much. :)**

**Two: To another guest named JOV, who reviews all my stories, even the not-so-well-known ones, and leaves super-long reviews so I know he/she really likes them. Also, thank you for all your fabulous suggestions, for all my stories. You have had some great ideas for the last couple of chapter of Story of Our Lives. Thank you so, so much.**

**Also, thank you to everyone who reviews, even when my chapters suck, with suggestions, comments, or praise. Or constructive criticism. You really make me a better writer. **

**I know most of my readers will see this message on this story, which is why I put it here and took up loads of your time. Anyway, read on! This is going to build up to something big.**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**

* * *

Alicia sped into the room as fast as possible without breaking into a run. She skidded to a stop, then plopped down on Massie's bed, where the others were gathered. The two papers she'd been holding floated down to Massie's lap.

"These are the two best," she declared. "Which do you guys like?"

Massie flipped them over. The two choices were:

-Send Kristen's number to an inappropriate strip site.

-Send a text to Mrs. Gregory saying, 'Got 2 grams for $40,' then see what she replies and text back accordingly.

"Which one?" Alicia asked. "And don't tell me to do any more thinking, cuz my brain will explode."

"I like either," Massie proclaimed, passing the sheets to Dylan. "You have a pick?"

"Strip site is my vote." She handed them over to Claire.

"Neither. Guys, these are crossing the line."

"No they're nawt! They're perfect!"

"I think we should do strip site. Cuz nawt only will that affect Kristen, her mom will find out cuz her phone will be constantly ringing, and her friends will find out, too," Alicia decided.

An evil grin spread across Massie's face. "Or maybe we could send awl their numbers." She pulled out the phone. "Ready?"

* * *

"I hate waiting here for them to, like, do something. I feel like I'm just letting it happen," Kristen whined as she dug in her locker for her phone. It _had_ to be here.

"Relax, Kris. We told you: no one will blame you."

"Still," she insisted. "We should try to get them back."

"That's not what we do here. Besides, what are they really gonna do? Everything constitutes harassment these day. Pretty much anything they try, we can go to the police for."

"Maybe," allowed Kristen. "But I'll feel like such a baby, tattling." She reached onto the top shelf and felt around. Nothing except for a bag of KettleCorn she was saving.

"Going to the police means you're not a baby. You're taking a stand." Isabelle shut her locker and moved over to stand next to Kristen.

"Alright. But are you sure everyone knows this is nawt my fault?"

"Everyone knows. Come on." She led the way into the art room.

* * *

Massie opened the first page she found. A message popped up.

**Are you over 18 and willing to view adult content?**

Yes, she clicked. The website loaded. Claire turned away.

**Submit my number!** she pressed.

**Anyone can now select your number from a list and may call anytime. Is this okay?**

Yes. And she typed Kristen's in.

**Would you like to add any more numbers?**

Yes. She tapped them into the system with a smirk and read off the names. "I put in Karolyn Stern's, Brynn Presscott's, Avalon Katye's, Isabelle Angelico's, Nicolette Marin's, and Jasmine Cartlington's. I can't find anyone else from Clear Creek."

"What about her?" Claire pointed to a picture labeled 'Lila Kasper.' "Doesn't she go to Clear Creek?"

Dylan nodded. "I think she eats lunch near us. And I think Kristen might have mentioned having two classes with someone named Lila."

"If you say so. Anyway, it can't hurt. Should I add pictures?"

"Why nawt?" Alicia giggled, scrolling through the phone. "The only one I can't find is a good one of Avalon. Oh, and I don't think she has any of Jasmine's."

"Okay. Let's try the Internet." She tapped in the name Avalon Katye. After scrolling through piles of Avalon High images, she came across one labeled, 'Avalon Katye standing with her team after their first-place win at Nationals.' She was dressed in a tight blue-and-gray Clear Creek uniform.

"Perfect. And that's definitely her." Dylan tossed a wavy red tendril out of her face.

"Okay. And J-A-S-M-I-N-E C-A-R-T-L-I-N-G-T-O-N, right?"

"Yup," replied Alicia, who was gripping the phone.

"Here's one. Apparently she's quite a big-shot at basketball."

"Alright. But we shouldn't put a picture of her in old shorts and a sweaty t-shirt."

"It's nawt. She's at some team fundraiser."

"Oh, okay."

"Are we done?" Claire asked, sighing.

"Yes, Kuh-laire." Massie rolled her eyes. "You'd think we were doing open-heart surgery, the way you're cringing."

Claire rolled her eyes back. "I just think this is really wrong."

Massie deftly uploaded the rest of the pictures, then clicked Send. "Too late."


	11. Chapter 11

***MARIE'S POV***

"I'm telling you; it's going perfectly," I assure the man on the other end of the phone line. "The Gregory girl, Kristen? Yeah, the blonde. She's playing right into it. I think she really needs the money."

"Anything to make a good..." His voice dies out, and I realize my boyfriend, Eli, has just driven us straight into a dead zone.

"Bye!" I shout into my beat-up Blackberry. I doubt he can hear me, but it's always better to be polite.

"Who was that?" Eli asks.

"No one," I say quickly. Too quickly.

He stares at me. "Who is no one? Are you cheating on me?"

"I would never!" I protest. I peck him on the lips. "Nobody else wants to date me anyway."

He brushes a chunk of dyed hair off my forehead and leans in. "You're beautiful, Marie," he whispers.

We've only just begun to kiss when a voice sounds from behind us. We whip around. A balding man with an obvious attitude problem is leaning out of the passenger window of a crappy Kia. His middle finger is pointed at us. "Get off the road, assholes!" he yells.

I open the door. "Do you have a problem?" I scream back, preparing to leap toward him.

"I do have a problem. A problem with you lousy immature kids who think you own the world. Other people are using this street; find a different place to make out!"

I jump, my fist raised. "I'll give you a prob-"

Eli grabs the back of my graphic T-shirt.

"Get off me!"

"Back off," he warns, his teeth clenched. "Seriously." He looks up. "Sorry, mister." Eli waves the man around his father's old Mercedes. "Honestly, Marie, what are you planning on getting yourself into now?"

"Sorry," I mutter. I know I have anger management issues, but really? He couldn't have just gone past us?

My phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Did you hang up on me?" Him again.

"No. Sorry. I had bad reception for a few minutes. I'm driving."

"Okay, fine. So how is this playing out?"

"I told you, the Gregory girl has this down-pat. The others are doing what you told them to; they just want to rule."

"Perfect." I can see his grin in my mind. "Thanks, Ms. Jeanette. And you forged the signatures on the leases again?"

"Of course."

"Great. Thank you."

"Anytime, sir." I hang up as Eli manuevers the car onto a particularly wide shoulder. Chucking the phone into the backseat, I smirk and thread my hands into his dark hair. Without giving him a chance to even turn the car off, I press my body against his and begin to kiss him.

* * *

"Did we give her cell number?" Alicia whispered as she joined the Pretty Commitee.

"Yeah," Massie responded. "Why?"

"Cuz then we need to give it back," she explained. "Duh."

"All done, chica," Dylan giggled. "I slipped it into her pencil case in class. You should have heard her. She was so excited."

"Good for her." Massie shrugged. "Gawd, she's probably wondering why she didn't see it before."

"Who cares?" Claire slipped her pack over her shoulders. "I need to babysit Todd this afternoon, and my neighbor's giving me a ride home. I don't want to be late. Bye!" She waved and merged into the flowing crowd.

"Time to brave the hallways," Dylan sighed.

"Just follow me. Excuse me, coming through, pardon me, excuse us!" Massie shouted as she wove through the halls. She turned back and glanced at her Beta and Gamma, who were still standing where she'd left them. "Come awn!"

* * *

**_*_ISABELLE'S POV***

_Ring! Ring! _

I roll my eyes and pick up the phone, surprised to see an unfamiliar number flash across the screen. Eh. It's probably my cousin Kaylie, who promised she'd call today. I pick up. "Hello?"

"Want to get it on, babe?"

"What the hell! No!" I slam down the phone, but two seconds later, it rings again. Then again. And again. Ignore, ignore, ignore. Then a text pops up.

**1-656-932-7201: Don't play hard 2 get, baby.  
1-656-932-7201: Come on. Ur so cute in that pic of urs.  
1-656-932-7201: And ur young. Come on, babe.**

"What the fuck?" I block the number, then watch my phone suspiciously, to make sure the unknown caller hasn't found another way to contact me. Nothing else comes up. I shake my head and return to my Math homework.

_Ring! Ring!_

"Omigod! Give up!" I yell at my phone, my finger hovering over the ignore button. I'm about to press it when I notice the name. Brynn Presscott. I sigh in relief. "Hey, girlie."

"Hey." She sounds strangely hesitant. "Uh, have you, um, by any chance gotten some, uh, weird calls?"

"Maybe. What about you?"

"Yeah. Some guy at... 1-904-389-2549."

"That's not where mine were coming from, but yeah. Wait. What were yours about?"

"I know this sounds super-crazy, but I think it was coming from some sort of, well, you know, over-18 kind of site."

"Yeah," I agree. "But I never, ever would give my number to anything like that."

"Are you sure?" Brynn asks skeptically. "I mean, no offense..."

"Even if I had, I wouldn't lie to you about it!" I scream. "And I'd never put yours in. Ever!"

"Alright, alright. Do you think I should ask around and see if this happened to anyone else?"

"No," I reply instantly. "Let's just keep it between us for now."

* * *

***KRISTEN'S POV***

"Turn off your phone," Mom orders as she begins to serve roasted chicken in garlic sauce. She's become quite the cook now that she's the overseer of a soup kitchen.

_Duh duh duh! Duh duh, duh duh duh duh! _My iPhone plays the familiar jingle. "Can I just take this?"

She smiles faintly. "Just that one."

"Okay." I head into my room before pressing accept. "Hey."

"Whatcha doin' tonight, bitch?"

It sounds like it's a man in his early twenties. Maybe my step-brother. But he'd never say that to me.

"Um, nuh-thing really," I say cautiously. For some reason, butterflies are fluttering in my stomach. "Um, who is this? I think you might have the wrong number."

"Oh, no, I meant to call you," he drawls. "You wanna meet up?"

"Uh, no thanks. You've got the wrong number. Bye." I being to power my phone down, but it rings again. I press accept quickly, before Mom catches me taking another call.

"Why'd you pick up again so quickly, if it's a wrong number?" the voice teases.

"You ah-gain." I hang up.

A text comes.

**1-743-803-3742: Stop hanging up on me, or no more Mr. Nice Guy.**

"What the fuck?" I delete the message as fast as possible, then manage to turn the phone off before something else happens.

I walk back into the dining room.

"Who was it?" Mom wants to know.

"Just a girl at school."

"Oh, what's her name? Let me guess, Massie, Alicia, Dylan, or Claire."

"None of the above, actually. It's a girl called, uh, Marci. Marci Meatkins."

"Meatkins?"

I've never heard my mother giggle like that. "Yeah, Meatkins." I force a smile. "Funny, right?"

"Hilarious." But her expression is back to serious, and I can't shake the feeling that she knows just what's going on.

* * *

***KAROLYN'S POV***

I always check my e-mail right before I go to bed, and today is no different. I log onto my MSN account and scroll through my inbox. I'm normally pretty up-to-date, and there's nothing new. Except then something pops up with a sound like a bubble bursting. I open it.

**From: Mike Rodgers (FreeGal)**

**To: Karolyn Stern **

**Hey girl,**

**I'm in town 2night 4 some serious action. Meet me at Aqua Steam at midnight? Look for the guy with nothing on. ;) I'll be waiting for you in a back room...**

I know that site. FreeGal, FreeGal, FreeGal.

Oh shit. That's where my sister got in trouble. Somehow they got hold of her number and wouldn't stop contacting her. She had to go to the police to get it straightened out; it was that freaking bad. Omigod.

A sex site. Some sex site got my number. OMFG. That's all I can think.

Oh My Fucking God.

* * *

***AVALON'S POV***

"'Night!" I call out my door.

Only my brother hears me, apparently. "'Night, A!" he hollers back from his room across the hall and two doors down.

I close my door and climb under the covers, curling up and shutting my eyes.

_I'm a survivor!  
I'm not gon' give up.  
I'm not gon' stop.  
I'm gon' work harder.  
I'm a survivor._

"Ugh!" I reach for my phone, and knock over the glass of water sitting on my nightstand in the process. "Crap!" Then I roll out of my bed to find my phone, and step in the wet puddle. "Double crap!"

_I'm a survivor!  
I'm gonna make it.  
I will survive.  
Keep on survivin'!_

"Jesus Christ!" Finally, my hand lands on my Droid. Just in time, I press answer. "I was going to sleep," I mutter, not particularly caring who's on the other end. My friends get me, and my grandma will yell at me. So what.

"With a guy?" the voice questions. "Or, better yet, how _many _guys? And can one of them be me?"

"No!" I scream, slamming the phone onto my bed. "Stop prank-calling me, Riley!" I yell through the wall to my brother.

"I'm not!" he shouts back, equally as loudly.

"What is all the ruckus?" my dad roars. "Your mother and I are trying to have some simple quiet time!"

"Sorry!" we call downstairs simultaneously.

**AVALONKATYE: I mean it. Stop.  
RILEYKATYE: I'm not. Stop blaming me for everything, little sis.  
AVALONKATYE: Bullshit. **

And then I fall asleep.

* * *

***NICOLETTE'S POV***

My feet move faster and faster to "Tic Toc" by Kesha until eventually I collapse on my beanbag chair, completely out of breath.

**1-932-502-6836: Can u go all nite?  
NICOLETTEMARIN: Depends on who I'm with.  
1-932-502-6836: With me.  
NICOLETTEMARIN: Do IK u?  
1-932-502-6836: U will when we go 2 bed 2gether.  
NICOLETTEMARIN: Freak. Bother some1 else.  
1-932-502-6836: I can go all night. Especially with someone as hot as u.  
NICOLETTEMARIN: How do u know what I look like?  
1-932-502-6836: From FreeGal, of course. U have a gr8 pic of u in a nice short dress. U've got good legs, girl.  
NICOLETTEMARIN: Seriously. Go bother someone else.**

I put down my BlackBerry and return to my Just Dance game, putting the idiot who texted me right out of my head.

* * *

***JASMINE'S POV***

The words 'Blocked Number' flash across the screen of my brand-new Nokia. I bought it with my own money when everyone else was obsesed with the iPhone 4S, but whatever. It does the job.

I turn back to the phone. 'Blocked Number.' Right. I never answer those. I tap the red hang-up button, then slip my phone back into the spicy orange Target clutch I normally keep it in.

_Bzz. Bzz._ 'Blocked Number.'

"Stop it!" I scream. Then finally, I pick up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm sure you can."

"Who is this?"

"The only thing that matters is that I know who you are."

Creep. Probably my ex, Ben. He insists on trying to scare me. I don't know if he thinks I'm just going to go running back into his arms or what, but I've learned to ignore all his ploys. "Good. Night," I tell my Nokia, then turn it off. For a split second, I see Ben's silhouette against my door, but then I realize it's just his picture hanging from my dartboard. I allow myself a laugh, then crawl into bed.

Good riddance.

* * *

"Is there a way to know if they got called yet?" Alicia asked, leaning over Massie's phone.

"I think so," she replied, scrolling down to the list of girls in the Westchester area. "Yeah. See. The little numbers in parentheses."

"Ehmagawd," Dylan breathed. "They all got it!"

"Yes!" Massie exclaimed, putting her hand up for a round of high-fives. "They're going down!"

"Down!" the others echoed happily.

Even Claire joined in. After all, she had to be a part of something. And if she couldn't be a part of Kristen's friendship, she'd be a part of the Pretty Commitee.

* * *

**Tell me if I'm playing your character, right, please, because otherwise I have no way of knowing. Tell me if you have suggestions! :D**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**


	12. Chapter 12

**So we all know this guest reviewer who's been bashing all the good Clique authors, right? Yeah, okay. So this Guest just reviewed on this story, No Match For Us. And since it's clear that all she/he wants is attention, let's all read his/her review, and then write a paragraph about how much we hate him/her. Yay! **

**But before you do that, I would like to write my own paragraph about this review.**

**To begin with: Please spell all your words right before you criticize me. Would you like me to Beta-Read for you?  
In addition: "Your Coppertone wars buddies...suck big time." Please get your facts straight before reviewing. Although I love many of the authors who are part of the Coppertone Wars forum, I have never once been part of it. So next time, please check your facts.  
Most importantly: Thank you for taking up your time and effort to review on my story. Since all the Coppertone Wars authors are absolutely amazing, you've made it clear that you think I'm an amazing author too. So thank you very much! :)**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**

**P.S. Let's not forget to all read Guest's review and write a paragraph about it! ;)**

* * *

"I found it!" Kristen exclaimed triumphantly. "Yesterday, in Math!"

"Thank God. I was wondering why you didn't answer my texts for the past couple of days."

"Oh. Well, yeah, that's why."

"So where was it?"

"Funny about that, actually. It was in my AM Binder's pencil case. I could swear I looked there, but maybe it was just so obvious that I never did."

"But wouldn't you have seen it there? When you got out supplies?"

_Bring. Bring. Bring._

Instinctively, Kristen clapped her hands over her ears. "Fire drill?" she asked.

Isabelle gave her a funny look. "Uh, no. Bell." She blinked a couple of times, her mascaraed lashes fluttering up and down. "Anyway, I'm glad you found your phone. Let's go to Art."

For the rest of the day, Kristen treasured the iPhone like it was her baby. She never let it out of her sight,or even put it in her back pocket, instead choosing to keep it buttoned into the side compartment of the Kate Spade clutch she'd always carried at OCD. Old habits die hard.

* * *

"Hey, B, you're vibrating," LuLu pointed out as they sat down in Science class.

"What? Ew!"

"No. Sorry. Your phone."

"Oh. Thanks." Brynn shot a grateful smile at the ditzy blonde before retrieving it and answering. "I'm in class, Mom, can't talk now."

"Not your Mom," a voice growled. The same voice that wouldn't stop calling her last night. She let out a whispered screech, zoomed her chair back, and slammed her finger onto the hang-up button. What was going _on_?

She had to tell someone other than Izzy. "Um, guys?"

Tallulah and LuLu turned to face her.

But the door closed with a bang, and Alicia Rivera walked in, her hair perfect, or teeth gleaming, her face shining, her clothes fitting her body like a glove.

"What does she think she is, a Victoria's Secret model?" LuLu quipped.

"She probably _is _a Victoria's Secret model," scowled Brynn, angry that the Latina had interrupted. All the courage she'd gathered to tell her friends about the phone calls was long gone.

"Now that our last member is here," the teacher started with an angry look at Alicia, "we can begin class. Today we are going to discuss when and how to use Scientific Notation..."

"Zzz." Brynn yawned. She'd known this since seventh grade.

LuLu shot her a look. She was trying her best to copy down notes into the pink spiral she was gripping, but Brynn knew she was dyslexic, and this was hard for her. She sighed.

"Here, LuLu, I'll take them for you," she offered with a small smile.

LuLu handed the book over. "Thanks, Brynn."

* * *

"Did you see him? Cutting homeroom with that slut?!" Tess exclaimed. "He never even formally broke up with me."

"You should never have said yes when he asked you out!" Callie reprimanded. "Look, I hate to say I told you so, but I did!"

Tallulah placed a comforting hand on Tess's shoulder. "Breathe, Tess. In. And out. In. And out. Now listen. He's a player. He does this on purpose. I bet the girl he dated before you wasn't very happy with you, right? But it wasn't really your fault."

Tess nodded thoughtfully. "Okay."

"I don't think the girl he's dating now-what's her name?"

"Jennifer Foxx," Callie supplied.

"Okay. Jennifer Foxx. I doubt she said yes to spite you. She did it cuz he's hot and a charmer and wears cute clothes. I think the least you can do is warn her."

"Why would I do that? If I had to deal with this, so should everyone else. Anyone who falls for his act is as stupid as me, and deserves the consequences."

"Are you saying you deserve this?" Tallulah inquired gently.

Tess shook her head adamantly.

"Why not?"

"Cuz no one deserves this! And Callie and Brigit told me he was a player; I didn't listen! So why would Jennifer Foxx listen to _me_? I don't even know her!"

"Wouldn't you feel better if you tried?" prompted Tallulah.

Tess sighed. "Maybe."

"Okay. When can you tell her?"

"We're on the same bus, I think," Tess said. "I'll try then."

* * *

"When do you think those girls will strike?" Karolyn asked Brynn.

"Dunno." She shrugged. "I kind of think Kristen might be over-estimating them anyway."

"I don't know. She seemed pretty sure of herself. Um... by the way..."

"You've been getting them too, haven't you?" Brynn guessed.

"The calls? From FreeGal? Yeah."

"FreeGal? That's what it's called? That's horrible."

"I know," Karolyn agreed. "My sister got caught up in that site a few years ago." She brushed a blonde ringlet out of her eye with the back of her hand. "Do you think I need to cut my hair?"

"No, you're hair's beautiful. It's mine I hate." She glowered. "It's so _brown_."

"No it's not!" Karolyn protested, laughing. "It's just as blonde as mine."

"But yours is _pretty_. Mine's just...ick."

Karolyn smirked and shook her head. "You have no clue what you're talking about. At least you're tan." She critically examined her arm. "I'm so _pale_."

"It's called _porcelain_," Brynn informed her. "You're pretty, Kar. Chill."

* * *

"Should we call a meeting?" Marie asked. It was the first time she was face-to-face with her boss. Or as face-to-face as possible, considering she lived in Westchester and he in Phoenix, Arizona. "I think it might be time to have another talk with them."

"Why? Everything is going perfectly, from your reports. And I've been watching footage."

"I think it's getting a bit dull. I think we need to bring some boys into the mix."

"Tess's kid, what's-his-face. He's a boy."

"More boys. Boys for the Pretty Commitee."

"They don't need boys."

"That's where you're wrong, Hendricks." Marie pushed her chair back and reached over to turn her laptop off. "I'm gonna text them."

"Meet in a secluded location. Nothing that can be traced back," Hendricks warned. "This has to be on the DL."

Marie rolled her eyes. "I know. How are people taking it?"

"Great. We can do a whole thing on these girls."

"That's great." She beamed warmly. "Got to go. I have English with the brunette, and then Social Studies with both her and the blonde."

"Which blonde?"

"The cute one. The one they leave out."

"Alright. Call that meeting. But be careful."

"Definitely," Marie agreed, firmly holding her smile on her face, picturing dollar signs. "Bye."

"Good luck, Ms. Jeanette."

* * *

**So. What's going on with Marie? And don't forget about our Guest.**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**


	13. Chapter 13

"Seriously, asshole, where are we going?"

"Shush! I already said six times that I'll tell you later!"

"Can you stop arguing? It's all you've done for the past two hours."

"Jesus Christ, guys, we're gonna be really late."

"Well, if you'd move your ass a little faster, we wouldn't be!"

"Your face is all red. This too steep a hill for you, K?"

"No way! Maybe if your eyes were the same color you'd know that!"

"Guys! Shut up! I see someone!"

The group of five boys stopped in a small clearing to let themselves breathe. Two stood tall and strong, the result of years of playing as a forward in soccer and running cross-country. Another two let their hands drop to their knees and bent over heaving. The last fell to the ground and panted.

"Geez, K, drama king much?" one boy teased, nudging the fallen kid's head with his sneaker.

"I thought we were supposed to look _professional_," scowled another, staring down at the first boy's foot.

"For me, this _is_ professional," he replied, petting his ripped-up jeans and looking hurt.

"Excuse me." A girl wearing a white short-sleeved cardigan over a layered pink tank and gray skinny jeans with white ballet flats appeared out of the trees. Her huge green bedroom eyes blinked at them bemusedly, and her black hair, which was pulled up into a small bun behind her ear, was tinged with red and green, the clear effect of multiple dye-jobs. "Are you the boys I invited here?"

"No. We're just five boys who popped out of nowhere," one snapped sarcastically.

The girl rolled her eyes and checked a sheet of paper she was holding. "How would you like to be famous?" she questioned.

"What do you mean, _famous_?"

"Famous. As in, on TV. I'm sorry, I'll paraphrase. How would you like to be 'on TV?'"

"That would be cool," one boy agreed.

"I'm sorry," another one interrupted as his eyes traveled over her face, "but are you ever going to give us your name? And _number_?" He smirked, his gaze moving to her chest.

"Name, yes, number, never." She smirked back. "I am Ms. Marie Jeanette, and I am a representative of a company that can put you on television starting next week. And your names are?"

"You know what our names are," one scoffed.

"Actually, if you'll remember, I contacted you not once using or knowing your names. So if you would be polite enough to tell me..."

"Derrick Harrington."

"Josh Hotz."

"Chris Plovert."

"Kemp Hurley."

"Cam Fisher."

"Thank you," Marie Jeanette replied as she scrawled them down. "Now that that is over, would you like to be on television?"

"I-" Cam started, then stopped, blushing.

"What? Gotta tell Mommy?" Derrick teased.

Cam swallowed his words and looked as though he was choking on them.

Chris laughed. "This is just a huge scam, right? Candid camera or something?" He snickered again.

"No, not a scam," the girl replied. "But if you want to be on TV, you will fill out these applications and mail them in to this address-" she handed them each a scrap of paper "-by tomorrow evening, you will find out more information about this. I really hope you will at least consider it."

* * *

"I can't deal with this!" Brynn exploded. She was standing in Isabelle's bedroom, while the latter was perched on the edge of her bed. "We need to report this. The calls just keep coming!"

Isabelle shrugged. "Block the number. That's what I did."

"It's not just that number," Brynn said seriously. "They're coming from everywhere."

For a split second, Isabelle felt just a tiny bit jealous that Brynn was receiving more calls than she was. But then she remembered what the real situation was, and forgot about her envy. "We need to talk to the others, is what we need to do. Why don't we figure out if anyone else is getting them too?" Isabelle proposed.

"Cuz if no one else is, we'll be the freaks who're getting wierd calls from sex sites!" Brynn hissed. Isabelle snickered, and Brynn felt a flash of triumph. She'd made the most popular girl in school laugh. Then she added, "Although I do know one other girl who's getting them."

"Who?" Isabelle demanded. "Wait, I thought we agreed we weren't telling anyone else."

"But Karolyn's my best friend!" Brynn whined. "And now we know it's not just us."

"Fine," Isabelle agreed. "We'll both talk to one person. But we'll be really subtle, okay? Just... find a way. You're good with words."

"I'll try." Brynn smiled, putting a hand on the doorknob. "My mom's gonna be here in a few minutes. I gotta go. But how 'bout I talk to LuLu and you talk to, uh, Tessa?"

"Don't tell LuLu," Isabelle ordered instantly. "She's an airhead. If you need to confide in someone, try Ava."

"Katye? I really don't know her that well."

"Whatever. Just talk to her. It can't be that hard."

"Not for you, Miss Charismatic Isabelle Loryn Angelico, Queen Bee of the Universe," she joked. "For me, however, maybe a little."

"You'll be fun." Isabelle gave her a light shove and a grin. "Now go run on home, little one."

Brynn rolled her eyes. "Bee-yoch."

"Slut."

"Whore."

"Freak."

"Whatever." Isabelle smirked.

"Admit I won."

"Fine. You win. Now shoo. I'll see you tomorrow."

Brynn stuck her tongue out. "Buh-bye."

"Buh-bye."

* * *

"I told them," Marie later reported to Hendricks.

"Were they agreeable?"

"Of course. Who doesn't want to be famous?"

He shrugged. "I haven't gotten the releases. Did you send them?"

"Not yet," she answered. "Tomorrow."

"Fine," he agreed. "Two more weeks, and then we'll tell. This is going to be the best yet."

"Only two? This is the most amusing one I've ever seen. Although being behind-the-scenes is never as much fun as being in."

"You're a student, aren't you?"

She pursed her lips. "Only for two more weeks."

* * *

**And by the way, next chapter will not be a filler! So stay tuned!**


End file.
